Possession
by carebear88
Summary: AU Luke/Noah. Luke and Noah are married and living in an apartment. Things go wrong when someone targets them.
1. Room 305

**Summary:** AU. Luke and Noah are married and living in an apartment. Things go wrong when the boys are targeted.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of ATWT characters, purely for fun.

* * *

Luke studied himself in the floor-length mirror of his new living room. He turned his head to the left, then to the right, examining the line of his jaw and the laugh lines around his mouth. He felt a chill in his naked upper body as some kind of wind blew through the apartment. He shuddered and placed his left hand over his heart, massaging the muscle in his pectoral.

Had marriage changed his outer body? Did the gold band on his finger transform him into a completely different person? He knew it was a symbol of change, of love and commitment, but he hadn't anticipated that the act of getting married would affect his physical appearance as well. He felt leaner . . . healthier. In love.

Luke felt a hand snake around his waist and a pair of lips kissing the back of his neck. He placed his hand over his husband's and smiled at him in the mirror. Noah rested his chin on Luke's shoulder and looked at him in the mirror. "Hello, my husband," he said.

"Hello," Luke responded, rocking back and forth gently. He could feel Noah's heart beating as his naked chest pressed against his back.

"Grooming yourself?" Noah asked, smiling.

"Mmm," Luke nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "I'm positively _glowing_."

Noah laughed and kissed his husband's neck. "I'm glad to be of service," he said.

Luke broke his gaze from the mirror and looked at the room around them. "You know, if we keep stopping to have sex, it'll take us all week to unpack these boxes."

Noah straightened and looked around the living room. The couch was still covered, as was the television and the bookcase. Boxes were strewn all over the place, marked **kitchen** and **bathroom** and **Noah's movie collection**. Most were unopened, dinged slightly from the ride in the moving van. The only respectable thing about their new place was the hardwood floors and the deep blue walls, classic in form and structure. Luke had gone crazy over the colonial revival structure of the apartment building with its stone, arched windows and charming white pillars in front. The only thing they both could have done without was the century's-old plumbing and electrical outlets, but the place had history, no doubt. This was a place where things happened for people.

"Hey, we're newlyweds," Noah said, turning Luke around. "It's expected we'll get a little sidetracked now and then."

Luke grinned widely and wrapped his arms around Noah's neck. "With that attitude, we'll _never_ unpack."

Noah raised his eyebrows. "I like the way you think," he said. He leaned in and kissed his husband, deeply and affectionately. When they parted, Luke touched his forehead to Noah's.

"I can't believe we're here," he said. "After all this time, we're finally married."

"I know," Noah said, putting his hands on Luke's hips. "It feels pretty amazing."

Luke raised a coy eyebrow. "You know what _else_ would feel amazing?" he said.

Noah smiled and leaned in for another kiss. "I think I have an idea—"

Luke whispered in Noah's ear, "Unpacking!" He slapped Noah's shoulder and went to the couch where his shirt had been thrown aside earlier.

Noah tossed his head back and groaned. "You're a killjoy," he said.

Luke tossed Noah his shirt and the boys covered themselves up. Luke tore open a box marked **dishes** and examined the bubble-wrapped interior to make sure any of their newly-bought kitchenware hadn't broken on the ride to Chicago from Oakdale.

"I have something for you," Noah said as he reached a hand inside of a box by the window.

Luke stood and turned. "For me?" he asked.

Noah turned from the window and unwrapped an object from a white handkerchief. Luke moved closer and Noah held up a gold chain with a charm. He set the handkerchief aside and held it out to Luke. "I know it's kind of tacky," he said. "And I know it's way too early for an anniversary present . . ."

Luke touched his fingers to the charm, a twisty, figure-eight design like some ancient Celtic crest. "It's beautiful," he said.

Noah unclasped the chain and put it around Luke's neck. It was as light as a thread of silk on Luke's skin, the gold charm shining at him on his chest. "It's for love," Noah said. "The man I bought it from said it would protect you."

"What, from the big, bad city folk?" Luke said, smiling.

"Hey, you never know," Noah said. He looked at Luke seriously. "I just . . . wanted you to know how happy I am that we're together."

Luke wrapped his arms around Noah's neck again and smiled. "I know," he said. He looked down at the charm as it seemed to glow unnaturally. "I love it. And I love you."

"I love you, too," Noah said.

They kissed and Luke could feel the gold chain getting warmer around his neck. He rubbed his nose against Noah's and thanked him for the necklace.

As they continued unpacking, Luke watched as the charm swayed back and forth on his chest, a silent reminder that he was loved and wanted. Noah sat on the floor, alphabetizing his movie collection.

"Have you met any of the new neighbors?" Luke asked, stacking one box on top of another.

"Besides our Russian landlord who doesn't speak any English?" Noah asked. "Actually, I met our neighbor in the next apartment."

"Really?" Luke asked, turning slightly. "What's his name?"

"Tobias Howl," Noah said. "He's a doctor."

Luke opened another box and raised his eyebrows. "Cool name," he said.

"He was a jumpy fellow. Kind of strange."

"Well, you know what they say," Luke shrugged. "It's had to make friends with your neighbors in the city." Luke opened the flaps on the box he had cut open and jumped back as a spider crawled in between the object wrapped in newspaper. "Jesus!" Luke cried.

"What?" Noah asked, standing. He rushed to Luke's side. "What is it?"

"It's a spider!" Luke yelped, skidding backwards, away from the box.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of spiders!" Noah laughed.

"Can you just kill it, please?" Luke pleaded.

"You lived on a farm!" Noah said, laughing as he reached his hand inside the box to retrieve the spider. Luke looked on as if the tiny white creature would bite his husband's hand off. "How can you be afraid of little Charlotte here?" Noah asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Luke said, shuddering. "Is it gone?"

Noah held the spider in his fist and went to the kitchen, laughing and shaking his head. He dumped the spider in the sink and ran the tap until the creature fell into the drain. "Sorry, little guy," he said. "Nothing personal." Noah went back to the living room and saw Luke standing behind the couch, his arms over his chest, eyes darting around the room as if another spider would pop out from nowhere.

"Is it dead?" he asked Noah.

"It put up a fight," Noah said, "almost took my hand off. But don't worry, I'm here to protect you."

"Very funny," Luke said, rolling his eyes. "I just . . ." he shuddered again and wrapped his arms tighter around his chest. "Ugh, I hate those things."

Suddenly, a knock came at the door. Luke looked at Noah and went to answer it. "Looks like the welcome wagon has arrived," he said, turning the knob.

When Luke opened the door, his first impression of the couple on the other side was that they belonged in a detergent commercial. The woman with strawberry blonde hair and a crisp yellow blouse held what looked like a pie in her nail-polished hands. She wore a ruby red smile and a bow in her bobbed hair. The gentleman next to her was dressed in a suit with no tie, a dimpled smile and black, slicked-back hair.

Luke blinked and felt, for a moment, that they were merely cardboard cutouts of the Cleavers. "Hello," he said, smiling slightly.

"Hi, neighbor!" the woman responded. A button had been pushed and this Stepford robot was now in play. She thrust the pie out to Luke. "We're the Ericson's from next door. I'm Patricia, this is my husband, Tom."

Luke looked at the sugar-encrusted blueberry pie and took it from her hands. "Nice to meet you," he said. The couple stood, smiling, waiting for him to invite them inside. "Would you like to come in?" Luke offered, standing aside.

"We'd love to," Tom said, leading the way.

"We're so happy to meet you," Patricia said, shaking Luke's free hand as he held the pie in the other.

Noah entered the entryway hall from the living room. "You must be Noah," Tom said. He went to Luke's husband and extended his hand. "I'm Tom."

Noah glanced at Luke and took Tom's hand. "Nice to meet you," he said. "How did you know my name?"

"We asked Mr. Radzinski who the new tenants were before coming over," Patricia said.

Noah winced as Tom shook his hand. "That's a strong grip you have," he said.

Tom released him and laughed. "Sorry," he said. "I sometimes forget to switch off from business mode."

_So I was right_, Luke thought, grinning to himself, _they _are_ robots_.

"Tom's an engineer," Patricia said. "And I run a bakery from our apartment." She turned to Luke and whispered with a wink, "I made that pie especially for you two."

Luke's flabbergasted smile was stuck on his face, unsure of what to make of these two. "Thanks," he said, for lack of a better word.

"Have you two been married long?" Tom asked suddenly.

The question surprised both Luke and Noah, and the Ericson's could see their bewilderment. Noah shot Luke a look. "Uh—"

"Oh, you don't have to worry with us," Tom said, putting his hands up. "We support gay rights." He smiled widely. "Love is love."

"And sex is sex," Patricia said, nudging Luke.

Luke felt his face burn in embarrassment and couldn't stop grinning for the life of him. "We're newlyweds," Luke said. He held up the pie. "I'm gonna put this in the kitchen." He made his way down the hall to the kitchen and shared a look with Noah that meant these neighbors were real characters.

"You picked a good apartment," Patricia went on. "I kept telling Tom here that we should have gotten the flat at the end of the hall, but he just _had_ to have west-facing windows."

"How long have you lived here?" Noah asked.

Tom blinked at Noah, his smile unwavering. "A while," he said.

Luke returned from the kitchen. Patricia turned to her husband. "We should be going," she said. "We don't want to keep you two lovebirds from enjoying your first day in your new apartment."

"She's right," Tom said. "When Patricia and I first got married, we didn't leave the bedroom for about a week."

Patricia giggled and slapped her husband on the shoulder. "Tom!" She turned to Luke and Noah. "Ignore him, he's an idiot."

"Well, thanks for the pie," Luke sad, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, it's our pleasure," Patricia said, opening the front door.

"And if you ever need anything else," Tom said, following his wife, "don't hesitate to knock. Room 306, right next door."

"Thanks," Noah said. "It was really nice meeting you both."

"Oh, you too, sweetie," Patricia reached out from the doorway and gave Noah a hug.

Noah laughed, surprised. When Patricia let him go, Tom held his hand out again. "Noah," he said. "I hope we'll be in touch." He grasped Noah's hands and gave it another business-like grip.

Patricia extended her arms to give Luke a hug as well, then stopped and took a step back. "Whoa," she said, looking at his necklace. "Is that gold?" she asked.

Luke held the charm between his fingers and looked at it. "Yeah," he said. "Noah gave it to me."

Patricia nodded. "Oh," she said, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm allergic to gold."

Tom put his hand on his wife's shoulder. "Come on, sweetie," he said. "You can't expect to bend over backwards for you, especially if you're giving them unsolicited hugs."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't be sorry, Luke," Patricia said. She touched his arm. "I'll see you guys around, okay?"

When the couple left, Luke looked at Noah in the hallway. "What was _that_?" he asked.

Noah shrugged. "Looks like our new neighbors are friendlier than we gave them credit for."

Luke laughed and put his hands to his face. "At least we got some free pie."

"And they made it _especially_ for us two," Noah said, mimicking Patricia's perky voice.

Luke laughed all the way to the living room where he and his husband continued unpacking.

0000000

A window with light. Curtains swaying against a black-and-white sky. Luke could see the necklace Noah had given him spinning behind the open window, bright and shining amidst the white light.

_De profundis_—

A scream, loud and shrill, maybe a woman. The window shut loudly with a boom! and Luke could see his apartment door at the end of the hall, room 305, the knob twisting and pulling from the inside. Someone wanted to get out.

De profundis—

A barking dog, gnashing it's teeth, mouth foaming as Luke involuntarily made his way to the door, his feet hovering above the floor.

_Redivivus_—

Then it burned, everything—his mouth his eyes, his entire body felt on fire. There was a child laughing and the sound of the dog barking, howling. Luke looked in the doorway of one of the other rooms as his body floated towards his flat. There was a man on a table in room 302, a knife licking his stomach until blood bubbled from his pale skin. Luke wiped his sweating brow and pulled back blood, thick and almost black in his trembling hand.

_Redivivus!_

The man in room 302 on the table screamed and the door slammed shut. Across the hall, on Luke's right, room 303 opened its door and Luke saw a little girl playing with a tea set in a pink dress. She looked at him, her pinky raised in the air as she sipped from her plastic tea cup.

"You'll never get anywhere with that attitude," the child said. When she lowered her cup, spiders spilled from the edges and landed on her dress.

_De profundis, redivivus_—

Luke looked ahead and came face-to-face with his apartment door, room 305. Luke extended a hand, but before he could touch the wood, the door opened slowly and saw Noah sitting on a white-linen bed in the middle of the empty living room. White light poured in from the windows and curtains wafted around him.

Luke opened his mouth to call out to his husband, but he could only sound out his name. His voice was silenced by the emptiness of the room. A man appeared behind one of the curtains. He held a Bible and stood in Luke's direction, his eyes missing from the sockets.

"De profundis, redivivus." The man made the sign of the cross.

Suddenly, Noah fell over sideways on the bed, his head resting on the pillow as if someone had shot him from the side.

The man with the Bible moved quickly over to Luke, as fast as a skittering spider until his face was all Luke could see, that face without eyes.

"I'm sorry," the man's mouth said, "there's nothing we can do."

0000000

Luke awoke with a start, gasping for breath as the last remnants of his dream dissipated from his eyesight. He sat up in bed and looked around the darkness of his room, the half-opened boxes making unsettling shadows along the wall. He felt alone and afraid, that the eyeless man would come to him again and not even Noah could protect him—

Luke looked at the body next to him in bed. Noah slept peacefully, curled on his side towards the window, one hand under his pillow. Luke stared intensely at him for a moment in the dark, to make sure the man was still breathing. When his chest rose and fell like normal, Luke let out a shaky breath and wiped his sweating forehead.

A dream. It was all a dream. The spiders, the blood, the man with no eyes . . . Luke couldn't remember what else was in his dream, but he was thankful it was all over. He lay back down on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling and afraid to go back to sleep. He turned over on his side and wrapped his arm around Noah's waist, pulling himself closer to the wall of Noah's back. Luke counted forty breaths from Noah and still couldn't fall back to sleep, worried the eyeless man in his dream would come to take Noah again.

**To be continued**


	2. Howl

The next morning, Luke jumped when he felt Noah's hand on his shoulder. He stood in the kitchen next to the counter where a pot of coffee was boiling, one of the few appliances they had unpacked the day before.

"Sorry," Noah said. He was already showered, shaved, and dressed for his first day of work at the local TV news station where he was producing a new mid-morning segment. "You okay?"

Luke rubbed his temple and got a mug down from the cabinet above the sink. "Yeah, sorry," he said. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Bad dream?" Noah asked. He took the pot of coffee as it simmered in the machine and filled his thermos.

"You could say that," Luke muttered. He felt tired and old, lazy for still being in his boxers and white pajama shirt while Noah looked like he was ready to run for public office.

"Well, don't worry," Noah said, screwing on the cap to his thermos. "It's hard adjusting to a new place. You'll get used to it."

"I hope so," Luke said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "By the way, my meeting for the foundation was pushed back to three. Wanna grab lunch later?"

"Sure," Noah said. In true businessman fashion, he looked at his wristwatch. "I gotta go." He gave Luke a peck on the cheek and gathered his satchel and thermos.

"Hey—" Luke took Noah's hand just as his husband made a dash for the door to the hallway of the entry. Noah turned and faced Luke. "I'm really proud of you," Luke said, moving his hand up and down Noah's arm.

Noah smiled and kissed Luke on the lips. "I'm proud of you, too," he said. He touched Luke's cheek with his hand as a final farewell and turned again for the door. "Love you," he called.

"Love you, too," Luke responded, watching his husband leave. He smiled slightly and shook his head. Luke turned to his bitter cup of black coffee and searched the cabinets for sugar. He sighed, feeling too lazy to dig in any of the non-perishable boxes in the pantry for a bag of sugar.

Luke put on a pair of jeans and took an empty mug from the cabinet. He knocked on door 306, fully expecting Patricia to greet him with a bright, pretty smile and possibly a strawberry muffin. Luke leaned in closer to the door and, hearing nothing, stepped away. He looked across the hall and heard choir music coming from the next apartment over, room 304.

Luke's fist hovered hesitantly over the door, unsure whether or not this stranger was as cheery and irritatingly perfect as the Ericson's had been. He rapped twice on the door, stepping back quickly. The music was cut abruptly after Luke's knock. He heard footsteps on the other side of the wall and flinched when the door opened quickly, halted by the chain clasped on the other side. Half of a face stared back at Luke, a pale man with wandering, colorless eyes and deep wrinkles in his face.

"What do you want?" the man asked.

"I, uh . . ." Luke felt afraid all of a sudden and didn't know why. "I'm Luke, I just moved in next door—"

The man closed the door suddenly. Luke heard the chain being unclasped on the other side and the door was opened again, revealing the man in the frame. He was tall and middle-aged, with a shifty sort of look about him as if he were waiting for a monster to jump out at him from the corner. He looked at Luke impatiently, waiting for him to explain his presence.

Luke held up the empty mug. "I know it's cliché," he said, laughing nervously, "but I was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar?"

The man looked Luke up and down. "That _is_ cliché," he said. He clicked his tongue and closed his eyes regrettably, stepping aside to usher Luke in.

Luke entered the flat hastily. "Thanks," he said.

"I'm Howl," the man said, closing the door. "Tobias Howl."

"Oh, the doctor?"

The man paused for a moment as he stood in front of the door, his back to Luke. He straightened and turned. "Yeah, the doctor," he said. Howl took the mug form Luke's hand and made his way down the hall to the kitchen. "White or brown?" he asked.

"Uh, white," Luke called, glancing around the hallway. It was exactly like his apartment, only backwards—the living room was on the left and what was supposed to be the office, at least in Luke's apartment, was on the right. He peered through the crack in the office door as it stood slightly ajar. A window was open on the inside, blowing about papers and pages of open books. Luke looked down the hall to make sure Howl was still busy in the kitchen, and opened the door to the office ever-so-slightly to get a better look.

Luke winced with every creak of the door. Inside, the office had become a library, with books stacked haphazardly on the shelf, desk, and even heater by the windowsill. Luke strained his eyesight to read some of the titles, keeping one foot in the hallway.

_Patterns of the Occult._

_Witchcraft in the 20__th__ Century._

_Necromancy Throughout History._

"That room is private."

Luke jumped at the voice. Howl stood beside him with the mug of sugar in his hand. Luke hadn't even heard the man approach, and he stepped away from the room, embarrassed. Howl closed the door of the library and handed Luke the sugar.

"Sorry," Luke said, taking the mug from his neighbor. "I was just reading the titles of some of your books."

Howl looked him up and down in that unsettling way again. "Is this a habit of yours?" he asked. "Snooping in other people's rooms?"

Luke felt his face burn and tried to laugh it off. "I, uh—"

"It's very dangerous, you know," Howl said, leaning in closer to Luke. "You never know _what_ you'll discover about a person."

Luke stared at the man's weary face and blank eyes. He seemed familiar somehow, as if Luke had seen him once on the street or in the pages of a book. "I'm sorry," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "It won't happen again."

Howl's black eyes darted to Luke's chest. He nodded towards the chain around the man's neck. "What's that?" he asked.

Luke looked down at his necklace and held the charm between his fingers. "It was a gift," Luke said.

Without permission, Howl took the charm in his own fingers and examined the gold figure-eight symbol. "It's a lemniscate," he said. "It's Latin. It's the symbol for eternity and balance."

Luke perked, remembering something from his dream last night. _De profundis_—

"Do you speak Latin?" he asked.

Howl looked at Luke and dropped the charm back onto his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes twitching back and forth nervously. He stepped away from Luke and turned to the living room.

"You said it was a gift," Howl said. Luke followed the man into the living room. "Are you married?" the man asked, turning to Luke as he stood near the bookshelf by the unlit fireplace.

Luke hesitated. For some reason, he didn't want to tell his new neighbor that he was gay, even though the man might already have known. To Luke, this felt like a test. "Yes," he said.

Howl stared at him. From beyond the man's shoulder, Luke could see a picture frame on the bookshelf of a younger Howl with his arm wrapped around a woman's shoulder, both of them smiling.

"Good," Howl said, nodding. "That's good."

Now Luke was sure this man was testing him. He held the mug of sugar in a sweating hand and itched to leave this apartment and retreat to his own kitchen. Howl, on the other hand, while inspecting Luke with his eyes, felt content to make small talk.

"You know, Saint Luke is very important in the Roman Catholic Church," Howl said. His face was serious, unsmiling, as if he were giving a lecture rather than a fun bit of information. "He's the patron saint of physicians."

Luke nodded, pretending to be interested. "Really?" he said. "You don't say."

Howl's beady eyes blinked, and his serious face contorted in an anguished sort of frown. "Do you believe in God, Luke?" His emotionless eyes had changed somehow in that instant, seemed to plead with Luke to say the right thing.

Luke swallowed and stared at Howl, imagining priest's robes on the man, imagining him making the sign of the cross while he chanted '_de profundis, redivivus_.'

"Yes," he confessed. "I believe in God."

Howl nodded again curtly. "Good," he said. He moved closer to Luke, close enough for Luke to feel trapped and uncomfortable. "The world is full of evil things, Luke," he said. "Bad, wicked things." He paused, glancing at the charm on man's necklace. "We need all the help we can get."

0000000

"Well," Patricia sighed, smiling upon opening her door as Luke stood on the other end, "you look like you just saw a ghost."

It was later in the day, almost noon. Luke had drunk his cup of coffee sugarless, pacing the kitchen after he had gotten back from Howl's. The man's colorless eyes and unsettling nature had shaken Luke to his core. He hadn't met anyone so cold and accusing since Noah's father.

"Sorry to bother you," Luke said.

"Not at all!" Patricia chirped, pulling Luke inside of her apartment. "I just got done with a batch of scones and there's one with you're name on it." She sat Luke down at the kitchen table, which was cluttered with baking pans and recipe books. He looked around the warm kitchen, her apartment the exact opposite of Howl's in every way—loving, inviting, smelling of cookies and laughter and childhood.

Patricia pulled a pan of fresh scones from the oven and scooped one up with a spatula. She placed it in front of Luke on a paper towel and he grinned.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem." Patricia wiped her floury hands on her lace-trimmed apron and sat at the table with Luke. "What can I help you with?" she asked.

Luke hovered his hand over the scone, feeling its heat as he wondered how to ask the question that had been bothering him all morning. "I met Dr. Howl across the hall today," Luke said.

Patricia grimaced and rubbed the back of her neck. "Oh, _him_," she said.

"Do you know him very well?"

Patricia sighed, her eyes downcast. "Not fondly," she said. "He's a bit of an odd fellow."

"Odd how?" Luke asked.

Patricia pursed her lips and put her elbows on the table, leaning in to dish out some hot gossip. "Well, he's nice enough and everything," she said, "but he's what you might call the dangerous kind of Christian."

Luke leaned in, intrigued. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well," Patricia said, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but ever since he lost his medical license, he's become this crazy religious nutso."

"He lost his medical license?" Luke asked. "How?"

"One of his patients killed herself," Patricia said. "Right in his own apartment. He had been her physician for a while, and one night he invited her over for coffee. Poor thing jumped out the window."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "She _killed_ herself?"

Patricia nodded. "At least that's what the police say. They don't have any evidence against him, but Tom and I think he might have killed her."

"Why would he do that?" Luke asked.

Patricia hesitated. She seemed disturbed by her own story. "Howl thinks it's his mission in life to rid the world of evil," she said. "He thinks everyone is a sinner, and that only _he_ can save them so they can go to Heaven."

Luke sat back in his chair, his face frozen in shock. "My God," he breathed.

Patricia nodded. "If I were you, I'd stay away from him," she said. She smiled suddenly, bright and bubbly as if the robot switch had been turned on and she was a '50's housewife again. "How about some milk with that scone?"

0000000

Later that afternoon, Luke stared at his herbal tea as he sat at the patio of the bistro around the corner.

"I think you're overreacting," Noah said, dabbing olive oil on his Greek salad.

"You weren't there," Luke said. "The guy was creepy. He kept asking me if I believed in God."

"I talked to him the other day," Noah said. "He seemed like an okay guy."

"Yeah, but what if it's true what Patricia said?" Luke asked, sitting up in his chair. "What he really is a psycho and he really killed that woman?"

"You're going off of gossip, Luke." Noah took a bite of his salad. "It's sad what happened to that woman, but you can't honestly think he _killed_ her."

"Why not?" Luke asked. "We don't know the guy. He could be capable of anything."

"_Exactly_," Noah said, pointing his fork at Luke, "we don't know the guy. He probably just got a bum rap from everyone talking about him behind his back."

Luke sighed and sat back in his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know," he said. "I just feel weird about the guy."

"Then don't see him again," Noah shrugged. "Just because he's our neighbor, doesn't mean we have to like him."

Luke laughed slightly. "You're always so rational about everything."

"And _you_ always jump to conclusions."

"_Somebody's_ got to," Luke mumbled, sipping his tea.

Noah noticed his empty side of the table. "You're not eating?" he asked.

Luke shook his head. "No, my stomach's been killing me all day."

"You okay?" Noah asked.

Luke waved his hand. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's talk about you—how has your first day been?"

"Busy," Noah said, setting his fork down and sitting back in his chair. "Four years of film classes didn't prepare me for _this_."

"Well, it's your first day," Luke said. "I'm sure you'll get used to it." He took his cell phone out of his pocket and checked the time. "Speaking of work, I have to get to a meeting for the foundation."

"So much for lunch," Noah said, motioning to his plate of half-eaten greens.

"Sorry," Luke said, standing. He put a twenty on the table to pay and leaned in to kiss his husband on the cheek.

"Hey," Noah said, "if you're not feeling well, I'll make you dinner tonight."

Luke smiled and kissed him again. "That's why I married you."

0000000

The door was locked. It was locked and Luke could hear footsteps running towards him from behind. The harder he pulled on the knob, the more stuck he felt, the louder the running feet became.

_De profundis—_

"What does that mean?!" Luke cried. His voice echoed in the dark hallway of his apartment. He pulled his hand away from the doorknob and felt that familiar, sticky feeling of warm blood on his hand.

The footsteps stopped and Luke could hear choir music. He turned and the hallway became impossible long, a golden light shining at the end like a beacon of salvation. Luke began to run to the light, making out the faintest image of the charm on his necklace, the sideways figure-eight that represented eternity and balance.

The no-eyed man suddenly blocked his path, stepping in wearing his priest robes. "You can't get out that way," he said.

Luke felt himself flying backwards, out the door of his apartment, and into the hall where a barking, gnashing dog pounced on him. Luke flailed and tried to beat the dog away. Its barking sounds were silent, and only its chomping mouth gave it away as a ruthless beast.

The dog disappeared and suddenly Luke was on the roof of the building, teetering on the ledge with his toes pointed to the dark abyss below.

_De profundis, redivivus._

"Tell me what it means!" Luke shouted to the dark sky. He turned on the ledge and saw the no-eyed man on the roof with him. The man made the sign of the cross and his mouth made noiseless sounds.

_Jump_, a voice whispered.

Luke looked at the blackness below him and could feel himself falling, falling . . .

_De profundis—_

The no-eyed man's face appeared in the abyss and Luke was sure it was Howl, grinning at him with sharp, pointed teeth.

"Jump!" Howl cried.

Luke fell forward, forward—

Howl's blank, empty eye sockets began to bleed and Luke tumbled downwards, his stomach turning in knots as he spiraled into that cold, empty nothing before him.

0000000

Luke jolted awake, feeling his leg involuntarily kick as he gasped for breath. He looked around the dark bedroom and could still feel himself falling, spinning out of control. He threw the covers off of his body and ran to the bathroom, vomiting the dinner Noah had worked so hard to make him. He dry-heaved until nothing came out, and sat on the cold tile of the old, creaking apartment bathroom, the rusty pipes whispering secrets of tenants past. Luke crawled backwards and sat up against the door, shivering from his dream.

Luke closed his eyes and he could see Howl in the dark, smiling with his bloody, colorless eyes. He opened his eyes and stared up at the yellow, stained ceiling , his head spinning with dizziness.

Luke remained in the bathroom the rest of the night, his back aching from the cold floor, too terrified to try and go back to sleep in his own bed. When Noah awoke just as the sun was coming up, Luke sprang to his feet when he heard his husband shuffling to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, pretending to have just woken up, himself, when in reality he hadn't slept another minute since his nightmare roused him from his sleep.

**To be continued**


	3. The Basement

**Note: Thanks for the reviews, guys! And for those who are wondering--I haven't given up on 'Echo Lake.' I'm just so restless, I couldn't wait to start a new story. But it'll be done eventually.**

* * *

The next day, Luke was tired. It wasn't his usual kind of tired where he didn't get the seven hours he wanted, but a hazy, aching kind of tired that felt like he was constantly running in place. His mind leapt ahead while his body sluggishly moved along, ten paces behind. He could hardly muster a smile when Noah kissed him goodbye before heading off to work.

But those eyes . . . or lack thereof. Luke couldn't risk falling asleep and seeing the no-eyed man again, grinning at him while wearing the priestly frock. He couldn't risk falling into another nightmare where he was being chased, gnawed at by dogs, or bleeding. If living without sleep meant he was a little slow, he would rather have been awake than asleep in hell.

As Luke unpacked a few more boxes from the bedroom, he took the dirty winter clothes from their musty bags and threw them in the laundry basket. He rubbed his eyes, exhausted, and lifted the basket with what felt like all of his strength.

Luke carried the laundry basket to the hallway and locked the door of his apartment. He felt like he was in a daze, that this simple act of carrying a load of laundry to the basement washers would drain him completely and he might fall asleep on his way back up the stairs. As Luke made his way down the hall, the door of apartment 301 opened and a pit bull on a leash leapt out, barking and snarling at Luke.

Luke yelped and jumped back, dropping the laundry basket to the floor.

"Bingo, heel!"

The owner of the dog stepped out of his flat wearing a cardigan and wool hat. He tugged on the animals leash and the dog obediently went to his master's side. Luke breathed out heavily, the shock of seeing the animal too much for his fragile, weary body.

"Sorry 'bout that, son," the older gentleman said, giving Luke an apologetic grin as he locked his door. "Bingo here's not used to strangers."

Luke stared at the menacing-looking dog as it growled at him. "I, uh . . ." he slowly bent over and picked up the laundry basket. "I thought dogs weren't allowed in the apartments?"

The owner motioned to dog. "Who, Bingo? He's not a dog—he's a security system!" The old man laughed and the dog made a lunge for Luke.

Luke stepped back but Bingo was tethered by the leash. He held his laundry basket close to his chest and made his way past the man and the dog, keeping his back pressed tightly to the wall. "Can you please just make sure that thing is on a leash?"

The old man tipped his hat to Luke. "Ah, gotch ya," he said. "Afraid of dogs, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Luke retreated quickly to the stairwell and didn't bother looking back. When he got to the first floor, he stopped and looked up the stairs to make sure the old man wasn't close behind, but there was no sign of either him or Bingo.

Luke turned the corner to the basement door and slowly made his way down, shaking his head. Had he just imagined that dog and his owner? Were his nightmares coming to life like one of those B-grade horror movies Noah loved so much?

_Sleep_, Luke thought. _I need sleep_.

But he didn't need the man with the bleeding eyes. He didn't need the barking dog or the child with the spiders coming out of her teacup. He didn't need any of those things and yet . . . and yet they seemed rational enough to end up in his waking world. What did he have to lose by—?

Luke's train of thought was interrupted the second he stepped foot onto the cement floor of the basement. He had seen places like this in slasher films, where the unsuspecting tenant got killed simply for being young and naïve and in need of some clean clothes. A single light bulb hung in the rafters, illuminating a circle of the basement with a dull, yellow glow.

_This is where they would torture me_, Luke thought. He spotted a dark crevice under the stairs. _And that's where they would hide my body_. Luke swallowed hard and looked around for the washing machine, trying his hardest not to imagine who 'they' might be. He heard the wood of the stairs creak behind him and froze. Someone was following him.

Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn't real—it was a hallucination from a lack of sleep. People didn't _really_ get chopped to bits in creepy old apartment basements, at least not gay characters. Gay characters were the comic relief or the minority the rich white kids felt cool to have around. They were never, _ever_ the first ones to die—

Luke heard footsteps behind him and whipped around, stepping into the pool of light from the dim bulb above him. He cried out when he saw Howl standing in front of him, that face of his nightmare looking at Luke without a lick of humor in his colorless eyes.

Luke dropped the laundry basket and jumped back. "What're you doing?" he cried.

"Sorry," Howl said, putting his hands up. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Jesus!" Luke breathed, slapping a hand over his jackhammering heart. "What, are you _following_ me?"

"The washing machine is broken," Howl said.

Luke blinked, not expecting that response. "What?"

"The machine," Howl motioned to the washer and dryer behind Luke. "It's broken. I was getting my mail and I saw you with a load of laundry. I thought I'd let you know before—"

"Yeah, thanks," Luke said, bending to pick up his laundry basket.

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to help."

"Yeah, well . . ." Luke brushed coldly past the man and made his way to the rickety stairs. "Next time, give me a little more warning before you decide to scare the crap out of me." He stomped up the stairs in a huff, angrier than he would have liked to have been and exhausted from being scared and tired all at once.

When Luke made his way back to the apartment, he set the laundry basket of dirty clothes on the floor by the couch and sat down. Just as he got comfortable, a knock came at the door. Luke closed his eyes and sighed. All he wanted to do was kick his feet up and try to cat nap without the disturbance of dreams. He couldn't even do that.

Luke went to the door and opened it. "Look, Howl, if you've come to apologize again, you can—" Luke stopped and closed his mouth when he saw Patricia in the doorway, holding a plate of macaroons. Her perky smile faded ever-so-slightly.

"I guess you were expecting someone else," she said. Luke invited her in and they sat together at the kitchen table. "You look like hell," Patricia said, setting the plate of sugary biscuits before him.

Luke rubbed is temple. "Thanks."

"You've got enough bags under your eyes to make a trip to Europe." Patricia outlined her finger around Luke's face and winked. "What's up?" she asked.

Luke sighed through his nose and sat back in his chair. "I've been having some trouble sleeping."

Patricia perked in her seat and smiled. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "I have the perfect remedy for insomnia, all natural—"

"It's not that," Luke said. "It's these dreams I've been having. Every time I go to sleep, I have these crazy nightmares and . . ." he hesitated, realizing how ridiculous he might have sounded. "Every time I dream, I see Dr. Howl. And it's so . . . real. It's so scary."

Patricia nodded, patiently waiting for him to continue.

"And then just now," Luke went on, "I went to the basement—"

"You went to the basement?" Patricia asked suddenly.

Luke looked at her. "Yeah," he said. "I needed to do laundry."

Patricia blinked rapidly, then nodded for him to keep talking.

"Anyway," Luke said, "I went to do my laundry and Howl followed me down there—it's like he was watching me or something." He looked at his neighbor, afraid she would think he was insane or paranoid or both. "I know it's crazy, but I can't help but think there's something wrong with this guy." He took a deep breath. "I think you were right when you said he was dangerous."

Patricia lowered her eyes and placed her hand over Luke's on the table. "Sweetie, I'm so sorry," she said. "This is all my fault—if I hadn't told you all those stories about Howl, you might not be so freaked out."

"I'm glad you told me," Luke said. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have realized how crazy he might be."

Patricia gave Luke a weak, reassuring smile and patted his hand. "Well, then—we'll just have to be on our guard, won't we?"

Luke nodded in agreement and rubbed his eyes. He needed rest. He needed reassurance. He needed Noah.

"So I know a sugar rush isn't the best medicine for an insomniac," Patricia said, changing the subject with a bright smile. "But if you don't have at least one macaroon, I'll be personally insulted."

Luke grinned and his neighbor gave him a playful wink. He took a tiny biscuit from the plate and popped one in his mouth. The sugary sweetness instantly melted on his tongue, pure ecstasy. "That's good," he said, licking his finger. "That's real good."

"Aw, I _knew_ I liked you, kid." Patricia leaned over and kissed Luke's cheek. She wiped the smudge of lipstick with the pad of her thumb and Luke instantly felt better about life.

As soon as she sat down, Luke noticed the skin of her neck turning red. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, motioning to her neck.

Patricia placed her hand over the reddening skin and rubbed it deeply. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "I must have brushed up against your necklace."

"Oh, right," Luke said. "I keep forgetting you're allergic to the metal."

Patricia gave him a quick smile then frowned as she scratched the skin on her neck. Tiny red bumps began to form near her windpipe. "You should take that necklace back to the jeweler," she said. "Make sure the guy didn't rip you off for a piece of tin."

"I don't care where it came from," Luke said. "As long as it's from Noah." He watched her scratch her neck. "Do you want some lotion or something?"

"I'm fine," Patricia snapped. Her tone was light but urgent, a hint of irritation even as she tried to smile away her worry. She closed her eyes and scratched her neck harder, her face twitching slightly. "You boys are so sickeningly sweet," she said, more to herself than to Luke. She opened her eyes and offered Luke a flickering smile. "Must be nice."

"You and your husband seem to be pretty well off," Luke offered.

Patricia stood suddenly. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I have to go. This rash is killing me." She retreated to the hallway quickly, rubbing her neck feverishly.

"Do you need me to call someone?" Luke said, following her down the hall. "A doctor, or—"

"I said I'm fine!" Patricia yelled, spinning around. She noticed the stunned look in Luke's eyes and laughed apologetically. "I'm sorry. I get a little cranky when I have an allergic outburst like this."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't be," Patricia said, opening the front door. "I'll see you later, okay?" The woman exited without another word, leaving Luke alone in the entryway, guilty and hurt.

0000000

That night, Luke and Noah lay in bed together, facing each other on their sides as they talked about their days. Luke had told his husband what happened with Howl in the basement, but left out his conversation with Patricia.

"Do you really think he's dangerous?" Noah asked, running his fingers through Luke's hair.

"I don't know," Luke said. He lowered his eyes. "I don't want to jump to conclusions, like you said, but I can't help it."

"Well, maybe I need to be more judgmental towards the guy like you," he said. "If he makes you uncomfortable, we can't have him around."

Luke snorted and rolled his eyes. "Easier said than done," he said.

"Don't worry," Noah said, placing his hand on his husband's cheek, "I'll keep you safe."

Luke smiled and stared into Noah's blue eyes, his face illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. "Thank you," he said.

Noah stroked his husband's cheek, noticing the bags under his eyes and the way his mouth sagged with exhaustion. "You look terrible," he said.

"It's these dreams," Luke said. "They're getting worse." He paused, studying the outline of Noah's face in the moonlight. He looked like an angel descendant from Heaven. "How can you keep me safe from my own mind?" he asked.

Luke's words nearly broke Noah's heart. They were only words, faint whispers in the dead of night, but he knew his husband was clearly distressed, Howl or no Howl. Noah wrapped his arm around Luke and pressed their foreheads together.

"I'm here," Noah said. "I'm right here. You're safe." He touched a hand to the charm on Luke's bare chest. "If anything, the necklace will protect you."

Luke laughed and kissed his husband. Noah's hand traveled from the necklace to the small of Luke's back and he probed his tongue past Luke's teeth. Luke raised his eyebrows and moaned into the kiss, knowing exactly what to expect from Noah in that moment. Noah's lips traveled to Luke's neck where he kissed and licked the soft spot he knew his husband got pleasure from. Luke laughed into Noah's shoulder.

"I'm afraid I won't be much use to you tonight," Luke whispered. "I can barely keep my eyes open."

"Good," Noah said as he planted kisses along Luke's neck. "I like you in a weakened state."

Luke laughed again and pulled the covers over their head, neither of them coming up for air until an hour or two later when they were both satisfied and spent from their lovemaking.

A few hours later, Noah awoke to the sound of feet shuffling around outside of the bedroom. He looked over in the bed and saw that Luke was missing, even though he had curled into Noah's chest to seemingly fall asleep.

Noah pulled on a shirt and stepped out of bed, sucking in a deep breath from the cold of the floor. He tiptoes out of the room and made his way down the hall to the kitchen. The lights were on but there was no sign of Luke.

"Luke?" Noah called out.

Nothing.

Noah made his way to the adjoining living room and looked for his husband in the dark. Still nothing. He heard a commotion down the hall towards the entryway and followed the voices.

"Luke, wake up!" someone yelled.

"Don't touch me!" Luke cried.

Noah hastened his steps at the sound of Luke's distressed voice. He ran down the hall and saw that the door of the apartment was open slightly. The voices grew louder, more frantic.

"You're sleeping, wake—!"

"I know what you are!" Luke cried.

Noah burst through the door to the hallway outside his flat and saw Luke struggling with Howl. The man had his hands on Luke's shoulder, shaking him as Luke tried to push him away.

"Hey!" Noah yelled. He pulled a dazed Luke away from the man and pushed Howl back with all his might.

"He was sleepwalking!" Howl said. "I saw him trying to—"

"His eyes!" Luke cried. "He's bleeding! There's so much blood!"

Noah held Luke's arms. "Luke, wake up!" he cried. "It's okay, it's me!"

"I saw him!" Luke slurred. His eyelids fluttered like butterfly wings, the white of his eyes peeking through. "I know what he is, he's got the blood—"

The door to room 306 opened and Patricia and her husband stood in the doorway. Patricia wrapped her bathrobe tightly around her pajamas and Tom rubbed his eyes.

"What's going on?" Patricia asked.

Howl pointed a finger at her. "You stay out of this!"

"Hey!" Noah yelled, turning to Howl. "Back off!"

Luke squeezed his eyes shut and fell against Noah's chest. Noah didn't know if Luke was still dreaming or not, but he held him anyway and rubbed the back of his neck. "Shh," he soothed. "You're okay."

"Do I need to call the police?" Tom asked.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you Tom?" Howl said, sneering at the man.

"Stay the hell away from us!" Noah shouted, looking at Howl with all the vehemence in the world. He began to lead Luke back in to their apartment. "If you _ever_ touch him again, I'll kill you!"

With his final word, Noah brought Luke into their apartment and slammed the door shut, double locking it. Howl stood in the hallway, staring at room 305. He looked at Patricia and Tom and they frowned at him from their doorway. He pointed to them. "This isn't over," Howl said. "Not by a long shot."

**To be continued**


	4. The Insomniac

The next morning, Saturday, Noah found Luke in the bathroom, washing his face. He stood in the doorway as his husband dried his face. "Hey."

Luke dabbed his face with a hand towel and turned. "Hey," he said. He threw the towel in the sink and rubbed his eyes.

"Were you able to fall back asleep last night?" Noah asked. He moved next to Luke and put his hand on the back of his husband's neck.

"What do _you_ think?" Luke asked, looking at his tired reflection in the mirror. He sighed. "I don't know what happened. I know I was dreaming, and I could feel myself walking around, I just . . ." He looked at Noah. "It felt so real."

"What did?" Noah asked.

"My dream," Luke said. His face was serious, his eyes wandering and far away as he remembered his nightmare. "The things I saw . . . they were so horrible—"

"It was just a dream, Luke," Noah said, rubbing his husband's back.

"No, but it was _real_!" Luke insisted. He turned away from the sink and faced Noah. "It was like . . . like déjà vu or something. That face—I could _taste_ the blood—"

"Hey," Noah took Luke's distressed face in his hands. "Did he hurt you?" He meant Howl.

Luke shook his head and lowered his eyes. "No," he said. "But the guy in my dream . . . he looked just like Howl. He was making me drink someone's blood, and there was this dog barking and all these people chanting around me—"

Noah swiftly embraced Luke in his arms, and his husband laid his head on his shoulder. "Shh," Noah whispered. "It's okay. You're okay."

Luke gently pulled away from Noah. His head felt like it weighed a million tons, his body like a sack of bricks. "I'm so tired," he said. "I just want to sleep, but I'm too afraid."

"Don't worry," Noah said. "You have all day to sleep in." He stroked Luke's hair and offered him a smile. "I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

Luke pursed his lips and nodded quickly, fighting the urge to cry his frustration away. He reached for the charm on his necklace for comfort, and looked at his chest when he felt nothing.

"Where's my necklace?" Luke asked.

"I don't know," Noah said. "Did you take it off last—?"

"No, I never take it off!" Luke said, panicking as he searched the medicine cabinet above the sink.

"Calm down," Noah said. "I'm sure it just fell off last night."

"I can't lose it!" Luke cried, moving quickly out of the bathroom. He made his way to the kitchen and searched the table, the cabinets, under the empty sugar jar and even under the sink.

"Luke, settle down! You'll find it," Noah said, following his husband's whirlwind.

"I need that necklace!" Luke yelled, feeling around the windowsill above the sink. He looked in the steel tub of the sink, terrified he might have dropped it in the drain after washing dishes last night. He unplugged the stopper in the drain and jumped back when he saw dozens of tiny, eight-legged spiders crawling from the black depths of the plumbing.

Luke cried out. The spiders inched their way up the sink, skittering with their long, shadowy legs.

"What?" Noah said. "What is it?"

"There are spiders everywhere!" Luke shouted, pointing to the sink as he pressed himself against the kitchen wall.

Noah peered into the sink. He saw nothing but rust stains and a few crumbs. "I don't see anything," he said. "Where are they?"

"They're right—" Luke stopped as he looked in the basin. The spiders had disappeared. He looked around the counter and the floor to make sure they hadn't scuttled away from Noah's sight, but the tiny monsters were gone just as quickly as they had come. "They were right there," he said.

Noah looked at his husband's white, panicked face. His eyes had dark circles underneath and his mouth hung open slightly. "Luke," he said slowly.

"No, they were _right_ there!" Luke cried, turning to Noah. "There were tons of them coming out of the drain!"

"Luke, stop!" Noah yelled, grabbing his husband by his shoulders. "You need to sleep. You're seeing things!"

Luke pushed Noah away. "I'm _not_ crazy!" he cried. He was close to tears, his face contorted in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his face. "Why is this happening?" he said into his hands.

Noah went to his husband and held him in his arms. Luke wrapped his arms around Noah's waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. "We'll get through this," Noah said. "I'll help you."

"How?" Luke asked, raising his head from Noah's shoulder.

Noah smiled weakly. "I'll . . . make you some tea. And I'll play soothing music for you. And I'll stay with you until you fall asleep."

For the first time in what felt like years, Luke smiled. "You'd do that for me?"

Noah kissed Luke's brow. "I made a promise when I married you—'in sickness and in health.'"

Luke hugged him and closed his eyes, grateful for his husband, grateful he was loved. "Thank you," he said.

0000000

When it seemed Luke had finally dozed off, Noah exited the bedroom, taking with him the empty tea cup Luke had drunken out of. He set the cup and saucer in the sink and took a deep breath. Everything felt like a mess, out of control. Noah wanted more than anything to help his husband, but he didn't know how. He didn't know how to protect him in a place he couldn't enter, that sacred place of dreams where Luke was afraid to go.

Noah walked down the hall and exited his apartment, eager with purpose. He banged on Howl's door, ready for a fight. "Howl, open up!" Noah yelled.

The door opened slowly, the chain fixed on the other side. When Howl saw Noah, h unlatched the door and opened it. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Give me the necklace," Noah said.

Howl seemed confused, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I know you took it!" Noah yelled. "Give it back right now or I'll—"

"I don't have it, Noah!"

Noah grabbed the older gentleman's collar and pulled him closer. "Did you try to hurt Luke last night?"

"No!" Howl cried. "I saw him sleepwalking and I thought he might hurt himself, so I tried to wake him up!"

"What were you doing up so late?" Noah said sternly, shaking the man.

Howl stared at Noah. He seemed to not want to the answer the question by the way his eyes darted around the hallway. Noah released the man and shook his head, fuming with anger.

"I've been praying for you and Luke," Howl said, as if his statement would somehow make everything better between them.

"We don't _need_ your prayers!" Noah shouted, pointing at the man. "You're sick! You need help!"

"Noah, I—"

"If I find that necklace anywhere in your apartment," Noah continued, "I'm calling the police." He turned sharply and made his way to his apartment door.

"I know what you think of me, Noah," Howl called after him. "I know you think I'm some kind of monster."

Noah froze, his hand on the knob of the door.

"But I'm not the one you should be afraid of," Howl said. His voice had an air of caution surrounding it. "God's wrath punishes the wicked."

Noah paused, the words sinking unsettlingly into his soul. He opened the door and entered his apartment, leaving Howl alone in the hallway, the man's creepy, colorless eyes staring after him. Noah leaned back against the door and closed his eyes. Howl's face, his otherworldly eyes . . . it was no wonder Luke had nightmares about the man. He was the scariest individual Noah had ever come up against—the kind of scary that snuck up on you and stared you down until you felt small against a dark corner.

Noah opened his eyes when he heard Luke's voice in the bedroom. He walked down the hall and through the kitchen, Luke's voice getting louder and more afraid as he went along. Noah entered the bedroom and saw Luke asleep, drenched in his own sweat and thrashing between the sheets.

"No . . ." Luke mumbled. He tossed his head to the side. "Don't touch me . . ."

Noah knelt by Luke's side of the bed and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Luke?"

"Stop it!" Luke cried in his sleep. He arched his back and landed back on the bed with a _thump_! "I don't know what that means!"

"Luke, wake up!" Noah yelled, shaking his husband's shoulder.

"I didn't tell . . ." Luke whispered. "I didn't tell him." Luke's face scrunched in agony. He looked like he might cry. "Please, I'll do anything you want."

"Luke!"

Luke suddenly bolted upright from the bed, his eyes wide open, mouth gasping for air. He held this position for a beat, startled out of his dream but still somehow sleeping, his eyes motionless and glazed over. He released a breath and sucked in another, as if something was choking the life out of him.

"Luke, are you okay?" Noah asked.

Luke sucked in another shallow breath. His eyes watered and he began to hyperventilate. "I can't . . . breathe!"

"Luke, Luke . . . oh my God!" Noah sat on the bed and pulled Luke's back against his chest as his husband struggled to breathe. Luke groped the bed sheets in a tight fist, his chest heaving up and down as the air seemed to be blocked from his lungs. "Luke, don't do this!" Noah pleaded, as if Luke had any control over what was happening. "Breathe with me, come on!" Noah wrapped his arm over Luke's shoulder and put a hand to his chest.

"It's cold . . ." Luke whispered. "It's cold."

"Luke, come on!" Noah cried. He was terrified, helpless.

Luke let out a long breath and slumped back against Noah's chest. His breathing regulated and his hands shook. He put a trembling hand over Noah's as it lay over his erratic heart. "Noah?"

Noah sniffled and nodded. "I'm here," he said.

Luke squeezed his hand tighter. "Did I fall asleep?" he asked.

Noah let out a relieved breath and kissed the back of Luke's head. "I'm calling a doctor," he said. He moved to get out of the bed, but Luke held him tightly in place.

"No, please!" Luke pleaded. "Stay with me. Please stay with me . . ." He closed his eyes. "I can't be alone."

Noah wrapped Luke in his arms from behind and gently lay back on the bed with him. "I'm right here," he said.

0000000

Later that day, Noah left Luke to unpack more boxes in the living room, figuring it would be a fool's errand to try and help him sleep again. Noah sat in the hallway outside of his apartment, head in his hands. He tried his hardest not to the let the tears creeping up the back of his throat exit his eyes, but the memory of Luke is such pain, gasping for breath on the bed, allowed for a single tear to fall down Noah's cheek. He wiped it away and sniffed, wanting to be strong and in control of the situation, when really he felt lost and afraid.

"Hey."

Noah looked up at the sound of the voice and saw Patricia standing in her doorway wearing her apron. He hair was tied back with a blue ribbon and her face, though smiling, was washed in sadness for Noah.

"Hi," Noah said, wiping his eyes. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," Patricia said. "I wanted to come over and see how Luke was doing."

Noah raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "He's worse," he said. "He's terrified and I don't know how to help him."

Patricia crossed the hall and sat next to Noah against the wall. "Did Howl do anything to him?" she asked.

Noah shook his head, staring into space, recoiling in disgust at the memory of last night. "No," he said. "He doesn't remember what happened with Howl, only what happened in his dream."

Patricia hugged her knees and grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "I take it he wasn't dreaming about ponies and rainbows?"

"It's so strange," Noah said. "He's had nightmares before, but never this badly. Not until we met Howl . . ."

The two sat quietly for a moment, lulled into a cautious silence as if Howl could hear their every word. "He's behind all of this," Noah said, gritting his teeth. "I know it."

Patricia bit her bottom lip and lowered her gaze, seemingly unable to offer a critique on the man. She dug in the pocket of her apron and pulled out a small plastic baggie. "Here," she said, offering it to Noah. "I wanted to give you this to give to Luke."

Noah looked at the baggie of crushed herbs and powder. "Luke doesn't do drugs," he said.

Patricia giggled. "It's a natural supplement. When Tom used to work crazy hours, I'd give him a little of this in his tea to help him relax."

Noah took the baggie and examined it. "What's in it?" he asked.

Patricia shrugged. "Rose hips, chamomile, dried catmint . . . it doesn't taste pretty by itself, but if you mix it in with some tea or lemonade, Luke will be out like a light."

"No bad dreams?" Noah asked.

Patricia held up three fingers. "Scout's honor," she said.

Noah sighed and squeezed the bag in his fist. "Thanks," he said.

Patricia touched his arm and kissed his temple. "Don't worry, sweetie," she said. "It'll all be over soon."

Noah patted her hand and gave her an appreciative smile. "I hope you're right," he said.

**To be continued**


	5. Stranger

**NOTE: I had a ton of fun writing "crazy Luke." That probably makes me a horrible person. Also, on a technical note, the side effects of catmint have been embellished for this chapter, but it really can cure hysteria once injected.**  


* * *

On Sunday, Noah awoke to find Luke already dressed and making coffee in the kitchen. Noah shuffled into the kitchen wearing pants and a light t-shirt and paused near the doorway, watching as Luke poured sugar into his coffee.

"Hey," he said.

Luke didn't make any acknowledging gestured. He set the sugar down and stirred his drink. Noah looked his husband over and raised his eyebrows. Luke was wearing black from head to toe—a black turtleneck, dark pants, and even his eyes seemed darker under his hooded gaze.

"Are you going to a funeral later?" Noah asked.

Luke took a sip of his coffee and slowly looked up at his husband. He seemed different than when Noah had given him Patricia's herbal remedy in a cup of tea last night. Noah had hoped, after Luke had fallen into an untroubled sleep for the rest of the night, that Luke would be happier and more at ease since getting a good night's sleep. This new man, this stranger in Luke's skin, looked at Noah with a sort of darkness across his face, an impatience as if he had better things to do than make small talk in the kitchen.

Luke rose from the table, a sly grin slithering across his face. "Should I be aware of any dead people we should be mourning?" he asked.

Noah stared at Luke for a moment. He rolled his eyes, then turned to the fridge and opened it. "Whatever," he said. He reached for a carton of milk and set it on the counter. "I take it Patricia's herbs worked last night?"

"Oh, yes," Luke said. He moved closer behind Noah's back, a sort of sing-song tone in his voice. "In fact, I think that's the best night of sleep I've ever had."

Noah nodded as he poured himself a glass of milk. "Good," he said. He turned and was startled to see Luke standing so close to him.

"Can I ask you something?" Luke asked. He placed his hands on the edge of the counter on either side of Noah's waist, boxing the man in place.

"Uh, sure," Noah said.

"Do you dream in color or black and white?"

A crease came across Noah's brow as he weighed the question. "Color, I think," he said.

Luke smiled, but it wasn't his usual, laid-back smile Noah had fallen in love with—this was the smile of someone playing a game. A stranger. "I dreamed in color last night, too," Luke said. His smile faded and he looked at Noah square in the eye. "I dreamed I was driving down the highway in some desert. The sky was . . . red. Bleeding. I picked up a hitchhiker on the side of the road and he tried to give me these pills—they looked like aspirin. Then he put a knife to my throat and he . . . tried . . . to rape me." Luke studied Noah's quizzical face and let out a laugh. "Best night of sleep I've ever had."

Noah swallowed hard. This wasn't like Luke. He felt like a completely different person, as if someone in the night had taken over his body. Even the color of Luke's eyes was different—still brown, but with a feathery tint of black around the iris. Noah wanted to shake him, to make him snap out of it, but found himself rooted to his spot, afraid to make a move.

"Luke, what's gotten into you?" he asked.

Luke's smile became a mock frown. He touched Noah's hair. "Aw, baby," he said sarcastically. "You look worried." Luke turned away and headed back to the table. "Don't worry, I didn't let him stick it in me."

Noah stared at his husband as Luke sat back down at the table. He felt unable to move, stunned into silence. "What in God's name is wrong with you?" he asked.

"_God_?" Luke laughed. He shook his head and raised his mug of coffee to his lips. "Let me tell you something about God, Noah—" He took a sip, set the coffee down, and stood from his chair once again. "_God_ doesn't give a shit about you and me. God doesn't care what happens to us."

"Luke—"

"_God_ is just a crutch for people who can't think for themselves to lean on!"

"Luke, you're not making any sense!" Noah cried, holding his hands up as he approached his husband. "You're not yourself, you shouldn't talk like this!"

"And how should I talk, Noah?" Luke asked, grinning mockingly. "Should I be a good little boy and mind my manners? Am I not the sweet, innocent Luke you know and love?"

"No, you're—"

"What?" Luke asked. He got right in Noah's face, his crazy, foreign eyes wildly scanning his husband's profile. "Am I bad? Am I . . ." he leaned in and whispered in Noah's ear, "_different_?"

"Yes!" Noah cried, taking Luke by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you better snap out of it right now or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Luke asked, laughing. He put his hands on Noah's chest and moved them up and down. "Are you gonna punish me?"

"Luke, don't."

"That's good, Noah," Luke said, giving his husband a teeth-baring grin. He pressed his forehead to Noah's and whispered, "Make me bleed."

Noah pushed Luke away, horrified. Luke turned as he fell back and put a hand on the table to steady himself. He stood hunched over, his back to Noah.

Noah watched as his husband breathed deeply and silently. He waited for the man to make another move but Luke seemed off in his own world. He muttered something and Noah took a step closer to hear him.

"Don't hurt him," Luke mumbled. He slapped his hand to his forehead as if trying to beat away a raging headache. Luke turned, muttering incoherently with his eyes closed tightly. "I'll do anything you want," he said under his breath. Noah watched as Luke's body twitched, the muscles on the right side of his face jerking in a spasm. Luke pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and craned his neck to the side. "Don't touch him, please . . ."

Noah stood and watched helplessly. It was as though Luke had become two different people, one pushing to get out while the other held his real self down. Noah reached out for Luke. "Hey," he said.

Luke slapped Noah's hand away and pointed at him. He gave Noah a warning look. "Don't!" he cried.

"Luke, what's—"

"Stay away from me!" Luke yelled, moving around the table to separate himself from Noah. "Don't come near me!"

"What's wrong with you?" Noah shouted. "Why are you acting like this?"

Luke closed his eyes and stretched his neck, rubbing the back of his head. He began muttering to himself again. "You can't . . . you can't. I'll do anything you want, don't hurt Noah."

"Luke!"

Luke's eyes snapped open and he looked at Noah. For a moment, the old Luke was back, staring at Noah with helpless, pleading eyes. Noah saw a red bead of blood trickle out of Luke's nose. "Luke, you're bleeding," he said.

Luke blinked. A slow smile crept across his face and he became different again. He touched the trail of blood before it reached his lip and licked it away from his finger tip, reveling in the taste as if it were as sweet as sugar or honey or chocolate. Luke looked at Noah and smiled wider. "Tastes good," he said.

Before Noah could ask what his husband was doing, Luke twitched and closed his eyes. Blood poured from his nose, covering his fingers as he put his hands over the area. It stained his shirt and wetted his lips, dying his fingernails an unsettling pink.

"Luke!" Noah rushed to his side, just in time to catch Luke as the man fainted to the floor.

0000000

The doctor placed Luke's CAT scan x-ray on the lighted board. Noah looked at the picture of his husband's white brain on a black backdrop, searching for any abnormalities even though he only knew about as much medical jargon as what he learned on TV.

Dr. Tam circled the dark, lung-shaped middle of Luke's brain on the x-ray with his pen. "As you can see here," the doctor said, "there are no signs of fracture, no anomalies that would indicate a brain tumor or any kind of trauma to the head."

"So he's okay?" Noah asked.

"His brain is perfectly intact," the doctor said, turning to Noah. "There are no signs of internal hemorrhaging or blood clots."

"So why was he bleeding so much?"

The doctor shrugged with his hands. He put the pen in his lab coat and sat on a stool by the lighted board where Luke's x-ray hung. "It can be any number of things," the doctor said. "Stress, nerves . . ."

Noah crossed his arms over his chest and remained silent, thinking over Luke's condition and wondering if there was more to it than just a lack of sleep. The doctor took note of Noah's worried silence and took out a pen and notepad from his lab coat.

"Does Luke have any allergies?" Dr. Tam asked.

Noah looked at the medical professional. "No," he said. "Not that I know of."

"Has he eaten or drank anything that might have triggered this type of response?"

Noah lowered his eyes and bit his bottom lip, worried he might have helped make Luke the way he was. "He's been having trouble sleeping. Our neighbor gave him some herbs to help him relax."

"What kind of herbs?" the doctor asked, scribbling on his notepad.

Noah rolled his eyes to the ceiling, struggling to remember. "Chamomile, rose hips . . . catmint?"

The doctor looked at Noah. "_Catmint_?" he asked. He snorted and shook his head. "No wonder. That stuff could knock out a horse."

"Is that what gave him the bloody nose?" Noah asked.

"It's possible," the doctor said. "He might have been experiencing a delayed allergic reaction to it. It's a rare side effect, but it can happen."

"Does it have any other side effects?" Noah asked.

Dr. Tam looked at Noah, his pen hovering above his paper. "Like what?"

Noah shrugged. "Like . . . hallucinations? Maybe paranoia?" He thought back to when Luke was in the kitchen, mumbling to himself like a madman. The memory made him sick with fear, but hopeful that the doctor might tell him something that could help Luke.

The doctor shook his head. "No," he said. "If anything, catmint helps relieve hysteria in people who inject it." Dr. Tam set the pen on his paper and peered at Noah intently. "Were there any other types of herb in that mix that you know of?"

Noah shook his head and shrugged. "No, I don't think so."

"Can you be sure?"

Noah looked at the doctor. He thought about Patricia's bright smile, her eagerness to help when Luke was at his worst. How could she have steered them wrong when Luke had slept so soundly that night after taking the herbs? And anyway, if Luke had been drugged with anything else, it would have shown up during his tests . . .

"Are you saying our neighbor poisoned him?" Noah asked.

Dr. Tam sighed. "Well, his urine test came up negative for any hallucinogenic drugs. Even if he had taken them last night, they would still be in his body and we'd be able to detect it."

"Then what's wrong with him?" Noah snapped. He was getting increasingly frustrated with the doctor's circular questions. He needed answers, he needed a safe, scientific way to help Luke.

"From a medical standpoint," the doctor said, standing from his stool, "I'd say the nosebleed was a result of stress combined with insomnia. I can prescribe some sleeping pills, if you like, but other than that, all I can tell you is that your husband needs a good night sleep. Preferably without medication."

Noah shook his head. "He'll never get to sleep without some pills."

Dr. Tam nodded. "Very well," he said. "I'll write up a prescription." The doctor began to leave the room, when Noah stood and touched his arm.

"He's going to be okay, though, right?" he asked.

Dr. Tam gave Noah a reassuring smile. "I have every faith he'll be just fine."

0000000

On the ride home from the doctor's office, Luke was quiet as he gazed out the window, his head resting on the pane. Noah drove slowly, methodically, glancing at his husband ever so often to judge whether or not he was really there . . . or if he had become a stranger once again.

"How are you feeling?" Noah asked.

Luke made no response. His black shirt still had bloodstains on it from his nosebleed earlier. He looked at his reflection in the glass of the window and hardly recognized the empty shell of a person staring back. "You ever get your dreams mixed up with reality?" Luke asked. "To the point where you don't know whether you're asleep or awake?"

Noah hesitated before answering. "I imagine I would," he said, "if I had trouble sleeping." He glanced at his husband.

Luke closed his eyes. "I think I'm going crazy," he whispered.

"You're not going crazy," Noah assured.

"Yes I am!" Luke cried, lifting his head from the window to look at his husband. "If I wasn't going crazy, that means everything that's happening to me . . . that means it's all real." He paused and looked out the window again. "I can't have it be real."

Noah didn't know what to say in that moment. He wanted to tell Luke that everything would be better once he had gotten some real sleep, but with Luke's nightmares jolting him awake every night, the last thing his husband would want to do was enter that world again. Noah found himself reaching out and holding Luke's hand. He squeezed it gently.

"Whatever's going on," he said, "just know that I love you, and I'm always here for you."

"I love you, too," Luke said. He scrunched his face as he looked out the window, the threat of crying prickling his skin. "I feel like I'm dying."

"You're _not_ dying," Noah insisted. "The doctor said—"

"Oh, the _doctor_!" Luke mocked. "He doesn't know the first thing that's wrong with me!"

"And you do?"

Luke was silent. He shook his head slightly and pulled his hand away from Noah's. "Whatever's going on, he can't help me." Luke swallowed hard and watched the concrete buildings fly by the window, the streetlights and lonely people walk on the street in the gray light of the day. "I'm afraid no one can."

**To be continued**


	6. Punish the Wicked

**NOTE: Sorry about the delay, class has been killing me. Look for a big twist in this next chapter.**  


* * *

Later that day, when Luke and Noah had arrived back at their apartment from the hospital, Noah had his husband lie down in the bedroom and fixed him a cup of tea. He assured Luke he wouldn't use the herbs Patricia had given him, but as Noah unscrewed the cap on the bottle of sleeping pills the doctor had given him, he felt a pang of guilt enter his heart. Luke wouldn't have approved Noah drugging him with medicine, but if it meant Luke could get some rest, Noah was willing to bare his husband's wrath.

Noah crushed two pills with a spoon and cutting board. He wiped the dust into Luke's tea and added honey to mask the taste. "I'm sorry, Luke," he murmured to himself, "I don't know what else to do."

Just as Noah lifted the warm cup to take to Luke, a knock came at the door. Noah set the steam cup down and walked through the hallway to the entry. He peered through the peephole and saw Patricia standing on the other end. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara. Noah opened the door and Patricia's face was red and puffy, her eyes moist with tears.

"Oh, thank God," she sighed.

"What's wrong?" Noah asked.

Patricia sniffled and wiped her cheek. "Can I come in?" she said.

Noah stepped aside to let her in and closed the door. He turned to her, worried. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Noah, I'm so sorry," Patricia said.

"Sorry about what?"

Noah's neighbor lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She gasped a breath and looked at him, shaking her head. "I heard about Luke," she began, "The landlord, Mr. Radzinski, told Tom and me what happened to Luke."

Noah nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said lowly. "But he's fine now, he's—"

"It's my fault he got sick," Patricia said.

Noah's every suspicion was finally confirmed, but not in a way he had imagined. How could this sweet, caring person be responsible for hurting Luke? "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Those herbs I gave you," Patricia said, "they're not mine." She sniffled again and closed her eyes, collecting herself. "I got them from Dr. Howl a while back for Tom. They worked so well for him, and nothing bad ever happened to Tom, so I figured Luke would be okay—"

Noah held a hand up. "Wait," he said, "you're saying you got those herbs from . . . from _Howl_?"

"That was before he went crazy!" Patricia cried. "When he was still a doctor, he gave me those herbs to help Tom. They didn't hurt him, so I thought it might help Luke. I had no idea . . ."

Noah put a hand on his forehead. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Howl, of all people, had given Patricia the herbs that hurt Luke. What's worse, Patricia thought it would be okay to give them to Luke when they came from a man so deranged and disturbed—

"I'm _so_ sorry," Patricia cried. "I should never have—"

Noah brushed past her and opened the door to his apartment. He bolted into the hallway and his neighbor followed. Noah banged on Howl's door. "Howl!" he yelled. "Open up!"

"Noah—"

"I know you can hear me!" Noah screamed. "Open this door _right_ now!"

"Noah, he's not home!" Patricia said, grabbing his arm.

Noah kicked the door and rested his forehead on the smooth wood. He pounded his fist again and closed his eyes, exhausted and scared and hell-bent on revenge. Howl made Luke sick. Howl would have to pay.

"Why is he doing this?" Noah asked, more to himself that to his neighbor.

"I don't know," Patricia said.

Noah turned from the door and faced Patricia. "He can't get away with this," he said.

0000000

Noah slowly held out the cup of lukewarm tea to his husband. Luke sat up in bed, dark circles under his eyes. "No," he said. "No thank you."

"Please," Noah begged. "It'll help you rest, I promise."

"That's what you said about Patricia's herbs!" Luke shook his head. "No," he said again. "I can't go back there . . . I can't dream anymore."

"Luke, I'm sorry about the herbs," Noah said. "But I don't know what else to do, baby, you gotta—"

"If you loved me, you wouldn't make me drink this!" Luke cried.

"I'm doing this _because_ I love you!" Noah yelled. His voice was tight with the threat of tears. "Please, Luke."

Luke shook his head. "No," he said. "I'll die."

"You won't—"

I don't _want_ it!" Luke yelled. He knocked the cup from Noah's hand, dashing it to the floor where it cracked into a dozen pieces. Tea splattered onto the floor. Luke swung his legs out of bed and went to the bathroom. He slammed the door shut, leaving Noah alone on the bed—scared, confused, and utterly helpless.

_Howl_. This was all Howl's fault. Noah didn't know what the man wanted with them, but the fact that he was willing to hurt Luke to get it sent a surge of anger rushing through Noah. He stood from the bed and went to the kitchen. Noah checked under the sink for his toolbox and dug through the red tin for a screwdriver. When he found what he was looking for, Noah exited his apartment and banged on Howl's door again.

"Howl?" he called. "Are you in there?" When there was no answer, Noah looked down the hall to make sure no one was coming. He crouched before Howl's door and pushed the head of the screwdriver into the old-fashioned lock. Noah had seen this on TV once—these old buildings had a million and one ways to be broken into with the right tools. Noah twisted and turned the screwdriver in the lock, then jammed it in with the chuff of his wrist. The door opened with a creak.

Noah looked around again to make sure no one had seen him. He put the screwdriver in his back pocket and slowly entered Howl's apartment. Every creak of the floorboard made Noah's heart leap into his throat. The sky outside the windows was a dull sort of gray, threatening rain. Noah spotted a coffee table in the entryway for keys and mail and opened the small drawers. He pushed around papers and slammed the doors shut. Noah looked to his right and saw a door. He opened it slowly and entered the office-turned-library. Books were piled everywhere, papers hanging off the edges of desks. At nay other time, Noah would have been terrified to be searching another man's home without his permission, but his need for answers and justice blinded him.

Noah looked through the drawers of the desk. He pushed aside papers with strange writing on them, a language Noah had never seen, with pictures of beasts he had only witnessed in horror films. Dragons. Sharp-toothed gremlins. Devils with curved horns.

"Come on, where are you?" Noah mumbled to himself, pushing more papers to the floor.

"Looks like rain."

Noah stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at the voice. His heart beat wildly, his feet immovable. Howl stood in the doorway of the library, arms over his chest. He peered at Noah, his face calm and serious. "What're you doing in my home, Noah?" Howl asked.

"Where's Luke's necklace?" Noah demanded.

Howl entered the room and uncrossed his arms. "I don't think I like the tone of your voice, Noah," he said.

"I know what you did!" Noah cried, pointing to him. The desk of papers and books separated them. "You've been planning this from the start! Those herbs you gave to Patricia . . . you knew they would make Luke sick!"

"Is that what _she _told you?" Howl asked.

"Where's the necklace, Howl?" Noah cried.

"I don't have it!"

"Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not lying!"

"You're a _liar_!" Noah cried. He couldn't help the tears springing to his eyes. He couldn't help his voice from cracking as he shouted at the man responsible for so much pain. "Why are you doing this?" Noah pleaded. "Luke doesn't deserve this."

"Noah, I'm not—"

"Is it because we're gay?" Noah asked. "We don't fit your perfect little Christian description of a family? Punish the wicked, that sort of thing?"

"That has nothing to do with this, Noah," Howl said, putting his hands up as if surrendering.

"Please," Noah begged. His face was twisted in pain, the kind of pain of having to see Luke suffer at the hands of a madman. "Please just leave us alone."

"The man said 'please,' Howl."

Noah and Howl turned at the voice in the doorway. Luke stood with a hand on his hip, a small smile on his lips. He had morphed into the stranger Noah had feared earlier that morning, staring at Howl as though he could devour him.

"Luke, what're you doing here?" Noah asked.

A heavy silence filled the air as Howl stared back at Luke. They were gunslingers without guns, a pair of enemies speaking wordless threats through their eyes. Howl nodded at the man in the doorway.

"Luke," he said.

Luke smiled wider. "Luciano," he corrected.

Howl raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Italian?" he asked.

Luke exchanged the nod, his creepy grin fixated on his face. Noah stood in confusion. He couldn't believe these two were exchanging pleasantries at a time like this.

"_De die in diem_," Luke said.

Noah did a double take. Even if they were talking about Italy, his words hardly sounded Italian. Yet there was something familiar about the language, almost like . . .

"Latin?" Howl asked.

Again Luke nodded. Noah took a step from behind the desk and reached his hand out. "Luke, let's go," he said.

"_Deus vobiscum_," Howl said.

Luke closed his eyes and cringed at the man's Latin words. He opened his eyes and sighed at the man. "You really shouldn't have said that."

Noah watched as Luke took a letter-opener from his back pocket and charged at Howl with it. Even in this split-second fiasco, Noah still had time to surmise that Luke must have taken the weapon from the coffee table in the entryway.

"Luke, no!" Noah cried. He grabbed the hand that held the knife and pushed Luke backwards. Howl jumped out of the way. Noah pushed his husband against the bookcase and slammed his hand against a shelf to make Luke drop the letter-opener. Luke struggled against Noah, squirming to get past him and kill Howl. "Luke, stop it!" Noah yelled.

"_Pater noster, qui es in caelis_,"Howl yelled_, _"_sanctificetur nomen tuum_!"

Luke stopped struggling and put his hand over his ears, crying out in pain.

"_Dominus tecum_!" Howl shouted.

"Stop!" Luke cried. He fell to the floor before Noah could catch him.

"Our Father," Howl said, "who art in heaven, hallowed by Thy name."

Noah knelt by Luke and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Luke, what—?"

"May the Lord be with you," Howl ended.

Luke opened his eyes. His breathing, though shallow, finally slowed down. He uncovered his ears and looked from Noah to Howl, then back to his husband. "What happened?" he asked.

Noah took Luke's arm and wrapped it around his shoulder. "We're getting out of here," he said. He stood with his husband and looked over his shoulder at Howl. He didn't know whether to apologize for Luke trying to kill him, or if he should stay mad that Howl was targeting them in the first place. One thing was for sure, though—whatever tension there was between them now, they were beyond words to define it.

"Noah, wait!" Howl called.

Noah continued carrying the limp Luke down the hall to the door. He couldn't speak, couldn't even begin to describe what was happening.

"I fell asleep," Luke said as they reached the door. "I was sleepwalking, I think."

"Come on," Noah said, opening the door and guiding him through. "It's okay," he said. "You're okay."

When they finally made it to their apartment, Noah laid Luke down on the couch and sat on the floor. He put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. How could he have broken into the man's home? What good would it have done to find the necklace when Howl's plan was already hurting Luke?

"Noah?"

Noah lifted his head at the sound of Luke's voice. He got on his knees and knelt before Luke on the couch. "I'm here," he said, taking his husband's hand. Rain began pelting the windowsill, a roll of thunder echoed outside.

"What's happening to me?" Luke asked. He stared at Noah, weary and scared and faraway.

"I don't know," Noah said. He kissed Luke's hand. It was cold. "But I'm going to save you, no matter what."

**To be continued**


	7. They're coming

**Note: All right, hiatus is over! Now I can finally finish this fic! sorry to keep you guys waiting so long!**  


* * *

Noah stayed with Luke for another half an hour until he drifted off to sleep again. When he was sure Luke wasn't having another nightmare, Noah stood and left the living room. He stepped out into the hall of the floor and looked at Patricia and Tom's door. He could hear music and laughter from their flat. Noah went to their door and paused before knocking. There was a patter of footsteps, the sound of the music cutting, and the voices from inside were hushed.

Patricia opened the door with a drink in her hand and the flaps of her shirt hanging uncharacteristically over her jeans. She smiled at Noah.

"Hey, you," she said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just . . ." Noah peered over her shoulder and saw a group of guests in the living room staring at him. "I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"

Patricia looked over her shoulder, then back at Noah. "No. Come in." She took Noah's wrist and pulled him inside the apartment.

Noah stood awkwardly in the hallway. The stares of the other guests unnerved him, made him feel like he was interrupting something. "I just wanted to ask if you—"

"Can you hold that thought for two seconds, babe?" Patricia said, holding up a finger. "Go mingle with the others for a minute, would you?" She went down the hall with her drink, leaving Noah at the mercy of the strangers in the next room.

Noah slowly went to the living room and the guests lowered their eyes. They were dressed as though they were coming from a funeral, though the laughter and music from before suggested otherwise.

"Sorry," Noah said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

An elderly woman with white hair and blood-red lipstick whispered something to the gray-haired man next to her. They looked at Noah and slowly sipped their drinks. Not knowing what else to say, Noah motioned to the room across the hall and said, "Excuse me, I'm just going to use the restroom." He could feel the guest's eyes burning into the back of his neck as he left.

As Noah put his hand on the knob of the door to the bathroom, he stepped back suddenly as a man exited. "Sorry, I thought this was—" Noah stopped and closed his mouth as Howl stood before him.

"Noah," Howl said.

"What are you doing here?" Noah asked.

"Yes, what _are_ you doing here, Howl?" Patricia asked. She appeared suddenly in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest with a scowl across her face.

Howl looked at Patricia, then at Noah. "I'm very sorry," he said. "Please excuse me—"

"Wait, you're not going anywhere!" Noah cried, grabbing the man's arm.

"It's all right, Noah," Patricia said. "Tom probably let him in, the big pushover." She approached Howl slowly, staring him up and down. "Howl has a way of getting into places without people knowing about it."

Howl ripped his arm away from Noah's grasp and turned back to the door of the apartment. "I'm sorry, I must go."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Noah called, running after him. As soon as Noah got to the hallway, he heard something coming from inside his apartment. Remembering Luke, Noah abandoned his chase of Howl and went to his flat.

The minute Noah got inside his apartment, he felt a chill. All the lights were off and there was an eerie silence that dug into Noah's bones, the kind of silence he only experienced when he awoke in the middle of the night in an empty house.

"Luke?" Noah called. He went to the living room and saw Luke standing by the window. Rain splattered on the sill like black mascara, the sky outside dark and violent.

"I had a dream while you were gone," Luke said. His was to Noah, so much so that he couldn't even see his face in the reflection of the window.

"What was your dream?" Noah asked, inching closer to his husband.

Luke's head bent forward slightly. "I dreamt I was standing on the edge of the roof. The rain was everywhere and as cold as ice. My feet slipped and I fell forward."

As Noah approached Luke, he touched the man's shoulder and finally saw his face in the window. It was sad, fearful, as if he had no hope left in the world.

Luke sniffled and raised his head. "They say you can't die in your dreams, but I did. I felt myself hitting the pavement and then the sidewalk opened me up and swallowed me." He turned his head and looked at Noah with tears in his eyes. "The scariest thing in the world is being punished for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Going to hell without the sin to match it . . ."

"You're scaring me, Luke," Noah said.

"I'm scaring _myself_," Luke said.

Noah touched his hand to Luke's face. "Come on," he said. "Let's go lie down." He led his husband to the bedroom slowly. When they got to the door, Luke turned to Noah suddenly.

"I don't want to die," he said. "I don't want to be dragged to hell."

"You won't be," Noah reassured. "You're just confused—"

"It's warm," Luke said as Noah led him inside the room. "It's happening all ready."

"Luke, stop it—"

"I can feel it," Luke said, lying on the bed. His face was covered in sweat. In the darkness of the room, Luke's face looked as hallow and shrunken as a dead body.

"Just relax, Luke," Noah said. He took his husband's hand. Luke looked at him suddenly and jerked his hand away.

"Get away from me!" Luke cried.

"Luke—"

"I know what you are!" Luke breathed heavily, cemented to his spot on the bed as though moving away would mean some other monster would grab him on the other side. "Don't touch me!"

"Calm down!" Noah cried. He was terrified, helpless as Luke thrashed on the bed.

Luke suddenly drew in a sharp breath and arched his back .He squeezed his eyes shut and cried out in pain. As he fell back on the bed, he tossed his head from side to side and whispered, "If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." Luke arched his back again and let out another agonizing cry.

"Luke, what's wrong?" Noah howled. "Tell me what's going on!"

"It's happening," Luke whispered. "I can feel it, they're coming—"

"Luke!"

"Oh, God, I don't want to die!"

Noah sprinted out of the room and ran to the kitchen. He took the phone from the wall and dialed 911. "Hello, can anyone hear me?" Noah cried. The dial tone went dead and all Noah could hear was the sound of teeth chattering on the other line. Noah hung the phone up and looked around. He didn't know what to do or where to go. He felt helpless, terrified that he might have to watch Luke die in front of him.

Noah ran from the kitchen and down the hall to the door. "Help!" he cried as he burst outside of his apartment. "Somebody help!"

Tom and Patricia's room was quiet, the light under the door snuffed out like a candle. Someone had to have had a working phone, someone who could help him in time to save Luke—

Howl opened his door and looked at Noah in the hallway. Noah stared at the man, wanting his help but wary of him. He wasn't sure which was worse—having Luke alone in the apartment as he screamed in pain or having Howl look at him in the hopes that Luke might recover.

"Please," Noah begged. "Please help him."

Howl gave Noah a curt nod and followed the man back to his apartment. "What happened to him?" Howl asked.

"I don't know," Noah said as they made their way to the bedroom. "I left him alone for two seconds and when I came back—"

"Is he bleeding?" Howl asked.

The question stopped Noah in his tracks. "What?"

"Is he bleeding?" Howl repeated. "His eyes, nose, mouth—"

"No," Noah said. "Look, I know you used to be a doctor—"

"I need to see him alone," Howl said as they paused in front of the bedroom door.

"No way!" Noah cried. "You're the one who made him sick in the first place, I'm not letting you—"

"Do you want my help or not?" Howl yelled.

Noah weighed his options. The power was out. The phones didn't work. Tom and Patricia weren't home and Howl may have been the only doctor within the building, however untrustworthy he may have been. When Luke let out another blood-curdling cry, all of Noah's reservations went out the window.

"Help him," Noah said. "Just do what you have to do!"

Howl entered the bedroom and closed the door. The second he was alone in the hallway, Noah regretted his decision. How could he have let that man anywhere near Luke? Doctor or not, how could Noah have even thought that Luke could be helped by someone so insane?

"No, please!" Luke cried from the other side of the door.

With his suspicions confirmed, Noah opened the door and pushed his way inside. Luke lay on the bed, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. Howl kneeled beside him by the bed.

"He's here!" Luke cried, tossing his head back and forth. "He's going to take me!"

Noah looked at Howl and saw him holding a gold chain with a pendant on the end. It was Luke's necklace. He grabbed Howl by the shoulders and lifted the man to his feet.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Noah cried.

"You don't understand!" Howl yelled.

Noah didn't want to understand. All he wanted to do was feel his fist come into contact with the man's face. He pushed him out of the room and tossed a punch to Howl's face. The doctor fell backwards and held his chin.

"Get out!" Noah screamed. "Get out, you sick bastard!"

"Noah—"

"I knew you stole it!" Noah yelled. "You've been trying to hurt Luke all along!"

"It's not me, Noah!" Howl pleaded. "You have to believe me, it's—"

A flash of lightning ripped across the sky and a boom of thunder sounded. Suddenly, the naked light bulbs around the house shattered, one after the other. The glass on all the windows exploded and a strong rush of wind blew into the apartment. Noah got to the floor to avoid the shower of glass. Then, as quickly as it all happened, the wind stopped and the apartment was as quiet as a graveyard.

Noah scrambled to his feet, fearing for Luke, and went to the bedroom. "Luke!" he called. When he saw that the bed was empty, Noah felt his blood freeze.

"Oh, God, it's too late" Howl said, standing near him. "They're already taken him."

**To be continued**


	8. Rescue

**NOTE: I have to extend a huge apology to purplepidgioncmmandbase, as well as everyone else waiting for the last few chapters. It's hard updating when you have a full schedule, but that's not excuse for incompetence, either. Hope you enjoy the last of it, and sorry again.**

* * *

Noah grabbed Howl by his shirt and threw him against the wall. "Where's Luke?" he yelled.

"Noah, you have to listen to me!" Howl cried, struggling against the man.

"What did you do? What do you mean they already took him?!"

"We don't have time for this!" Howl shouted, pushing Noah away. "If you want your husband to live, you have to do exactly as I say."

"Why?" Noah cried. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because three years ago, they killed my wife!"

Noah stared at the man. Before Howl could explain, he brushed past Noah and ran down the hall out of the apartment. Noah followed him.

"What do you mean?" Noah asked as Howl led him into his own apartment. "Who killed her?"

"They made it look like suicide, that I might have had something to do with it," Howl said as he went to the office where his stacks of books and papers sat for him. "Back when I still had my medical license, my wife and I moved here so I could start my own practice." Howl opened the drawer to his desk and shuffled the papers around. He pulled out a vile of clear liquid and stuck it in his jacket pocket.

"I don't understand," Noah said. "What's this got to do with—"

"They feed off of sexual energy," Howl continued, buzzing around his office like a madman. "They're attracted to it like moths to a flame. That's why they came after your husband. He's weaker, he didn't fight it like my wife—"

"But that woman," Noah said, struggling to keep up, "that patient of yours—they told me she committed suicide."

"She wasn't my patient, she was my _wife_!" Howl cried, whipping around with a Bible in his hand. A crack of lightning ripped across the sky and illuminated the room for a moment, and in that instant, Noah could see a teary mist in the old man's eyes.

"Your wife?" Noah asked.

"They got her," Howl said. "In the end, I couldn't save her."

"Who?" Noah said. "Who are 'they'?"

Howl looked at Noah, winded from running around his office. "Who do you _think_, Noah?"

0000000

Luke slowly awoke as he felt someone stoking the side of his face. His body was lethargic and floaty, his head feeling as though it were a balloon hovering over his body.

"Noah?" Luke mumbled.

"Shh," a voice murmured.

Luke slowly opened his eyes and instantly squinted at the yellow light hanging above him. A coppery smell filled the air. Luke tried to draw his arms down but could feel restraints holding them near his head. He jerked his leg but it was confined to the hard surface he was laying on.

"What's . . .?"

"Tom, he's waking up."

Luke opened his eyes wider and saw Patricia standing over him, a black hood covering her hair. Tom appeared opposite of his wife, dressed in the same black robe. The two stared down at him with unsmiling faces.

"What the hell is going on?" Luke asked groggily. A dream. This had to have been another horrible dream. "Noah—"

"Let me do it," Patricia said, holding her hand out to her husband.

"You _always_ get to do it," Tom said.

"Noah?" Luke called.

"That's because I'm better at it," Patricia shot back. "You always leave such a terrible mess."

Luke looked to his left, then to his right, and could finally see that he was in the basement of the building.

"What is this?" Luke asked tugging on his restraints.

"We're having a little party upstairs, dear," Patricia said, smiling down at Luke in that irritatingly perfect way. "And you're the guest of honor. There's just one tiny little detail we have to straighten out—"

"It'll be over quicker if I do it," Tom argued.

"This isn't real," Luke mumbled to himself. "This is a dream."

"Tom, I am _not_ having this discussion with you in front of the sacrifice!" Patricia snapped. "Honestly, if our friends could see us like this—"

"Fine!" Tom sighed. He pulled out a long, jagged knife from his black rob and handed it to Patricia. "But don't expect me to help you clean up this time."

Patricia took the knife and motioned to Luke's torso. "Could you at least open his shirt for me?"

"Wake up, wake up!" Luke yelled to himself as Tom tore the front end of his shirt open, revealing his bare chest. "Wake up!"

"_Thank_ you," Patricia said sarcastically to her husband. She looked down at the writhing Luke. "I hope this little domestic squabble doesn't change your opinion about us," she said.

Luke's eyes widened as Patricia slowly lowered the knife towards Luke's heart. "This is no dream, this is really happening!" he yelled.

0000000

"Take this," Howl said, thrusting the gold necklace he had taken from Luke to Noah. "I managed to slip in and take it back from Patricia and Tom at the party. It might be the only thing that can save Luke."

"This can't be happening," Noah muttered to himself as he grasped the chain. "This doesn't happen in real life—"

"I need you to follow me closely and keep your voice low," Howl said, exiting the library. "They'll know we're coming, anyway . . ."

"Howl," Noah grabbed the old man's arm and stopped him in the hallway. "What if we're too late?"

Howl stared at Noah for a moment. He remembered feeling the same kind of pain, the same anguish Noah was feeling when his wife was targeted those three years ago. "It's not too late, Noah," Howl said. "You have to believe me. It's not too late."

Noah nodded curtly, then continued to follow the man down the hall to the front door. Howl placed his hand on the knob and paused, an unsteady fear growing in his chest. He looked at Noah.

"Whatever you see," he whispered, "whatever you hear . . . you have to do your best not to be afraid."

Noah swallowed hard and nodded again. He clutched the necklace in his hand as though it were the one thing that connected him with reality, and followed Howl out the door into hell.

The hallway was dark when they exited Howl's apartment. No light from the other flats shone through the doors, not a sound was heard from any of the other neighbors. Noah looked towards Patricia and Tom's apartment and saw that the door was open, dark on the inside except for the flash of lightning from the windows. He squinted in the darkness and saw figures in black robes watching him and Howl, the same people Noah had seen earlier at the dinner party.

"Come on, move!" Howl cried, pulling Noah down the hall.

"Who are those people?" Noah asked as they ran down the hall.

"Just keep walking!"

A pounding noise was heard in room 303, as if someone was trying to get out from the inside. Down the hall, Noah could hear the barking of a dog in another flat.

"Let's go, let's go!" Howl yelled.

They reached the staircase and Noah heard a door opening from across the hall. Noah stopped and looked over his shoulder as an elderly man stood in the doorway of his flat with a pit-bull chained on a leash.

"Noah!" Howl called. He was already on the second-floor landing, miles and miles ahead of Noah.

"Bingo," the owner of the dog said with a smile. "Sic him!"

The pit-bull barked madly and ripped itself away from its master's leash as though it were nothing but a wet noodle. The dog charged after Noah, snapping and gnarling his teeth, rabid with fire in his eyes.

"Howl, run!" Noah cried, running down the stairs as the dog chased after him. The dog leapt and jumped on Noah's back, pushing him down the stairs. Noah fell hard, fast, his body slamming on the sharp edges of the stairs like a sack of potatoes. Pain shot up his back and shoulder, and when Noah finally stopped falling, he landed on his back with the dog snapping in his face with his sharp teeth.

"Howl, help me!" Noah yelled, straining to keep the dog's face away from his. The creature bit the air and grazed Noah' shoulder with his teeth. Noah cried out in pain.

"Get off of him!" Howl cried, kicking the satanic beast in its side.

The dog yelped in pain and fell off Noah. Howl helped Noah to his feet and they ran again as Bingo chased after them. The dog half-limped, half-ran after them down the stairs. When the reached the first floor, Howl ran out the front door.

"This way!"

Noah followed the old man, his head and back and shoulder throbbing in white-hot pain. They exited the building into the pouring rain outside, slamming the door shut behind them to keep the beast inside. Noah leaned in the archway of the building, winded and dizzy with pain.

"Are you already?" Howl shouted over the rain and thunder.

"I'm fine," Noah said. "Now what?"

"Come on, there another way in!"

Noah took Howl's arm as the man led him around the building to the back. Howl stopped in the mud of the unfinished garden and picked up a plank of wood from the flowerbox. He smashed in the window to the cellar, barely visible as mud gathered around it from the rain.

"Go in!" Howl yelled. "I'll be right behind you!"

Noah slowly climbed into the broken window of the basement, wet from the rain and trembling with fear. He jumped down into the darkness and stumbled to his knees. As Howl cautiously inched himself in feet first, Noah stepped back and helped the older man down. Water dripped down in a small, steady stream from the open window. When Howl was finally inside, the men stopped to catch their breath. Noah bent at the waist and coughed, delirious from everything.

In the distance of the dark cellar, Noah could hear someone groaning. He stood and listened again.

"Luke—"

Howl stopped Noah and slapped his hand over the man's mouth. "Shh!" he hissed. They waited one heartbeat, two, both men covered in mud and soaked with rain and blood. The groaning intensified and Noah knew it was Luke.

"Follow me," Howl said. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a vile of clear liquid. Howl handed Noah the small Bible he had tucked in the back of his jeans. "Do you still have that necklace?"

Noah nodded.

"Then you better put it on right now."

Noah threw the chain around his neck as they slowly made their way through the basement. Lightning was their only source of guidance through the dark labyrinth of boxes and broken washing machines. From under the staircase, Noah could make out a dull yellow light near the middle of the basement. The men followed it, Howl looking around as though something could jump out at them in any moment. As they moved around the rotting staircase, Noah could make out Luke in the middle of the yellow light, a single bulb hanging above him as he writhed and squirmed on the floor. Blood soaked his bare torso from a cut on his left breast.

"Luke!" Noah cried. He ran to his husband.

"Noah, wait!" Howl yelled.

Suddenly, Noah was knocked from his feet by a chair hurling itself at him. Noah gasped for breath, the wind slapped from his body as he lay on his stomach. He pushed himself to his knees by his quivering arms and saw Patricia sitting behind Luke with his head in her lap. She wore a black robe over her head and that damn quirky smile on her face.

"Oh, sweetie, you really ought not to be a hero," she said.

"Let him go," Noah said raggedly.

"But we've only just begun!" Patricia laughed.

Noah felt a presence behind him and turned to see Tom standing near, dressed in the same black robes as his wife. He smiled, pulled Noah to his feet, then pushed him across the room with inhuman strength. Noah's body slammed into the cinderblock wall and fell again onto the floor. He yelled in pain and felt his body go numb for a split second.

"Hey!" a voice cried.

Tom turned and Howl greeted him with a splash to the face of the clear liquid in the glass vile. Tom let out an agonizing cry and held his hands to his burning face. The flesh blazed like meat searing on an open fire. The man fell to the floor and wriggled in pain.

"Tom!" Patricia cried. She got to her feet, setting Luke's head back on the bloodstained cement floor, and charged at Howl.

"Noah, get up!" Howl yelled.

Noah moaned, struggling to his feet in time to see Patricia push Howl over into the open stairs as if he weighed nothing. Patricia put a hand around Howl's throat and squeezed tightly.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," she said, her voice raspy and demon-like.

Noah stood. He looked at Howl, then at Luke, wondering if he had time to save both of them.

"Noah, the necklace!" Howl choked.

Noah ripped the chain from his neck and went up behind Patricia, wrapping it over her neck like a serial killer with piano wire. Patricia cried out in pain and released Howl. She fell over as Noah choked her with the necklace from behind, her skin bubbling like boiling water.

"Get it off!" Patricia cried. "It's burning!"

"Noah, come on!" Howl yelled, rushing to Luke.

Noah tugged harder on the necklace. He wanted to make her pay, he wanted to make sure she was as close to being dead as possible. He wanted her to feel the same pain she had caused Luke for so long.

"Noah, he's going to die!"

Like coming out a spell, Noah blinked and let go of the necklace. Patricia fell to the floor, squirming and groaning in pain. Noah went to Luke as the man convulsed on the floor, blood smeared over his chest from the wound above his heart.

"Luke! Luke, can you hear me?"

Luke had his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth clenched as he thrashed and arched his back. The deep cut on his chest was red but had stopped bleeding, as if someone had sealed it shut with an invisible band-aid.

"Hold him!" Howl said. "Keep him steady!"

Noah did as he was told and cradled Luke's head in his lap, stroking his hair. "Luke? Come on, it's okay. You're okay."

Howl stood and took the vile of water from his pocket. He sprinkled the liquid in a circle around Luke ad Noah. Patricia and Tom slowly began to rouse. Luke opened his mouth and sucked in a labored breath, his legs kicked and pushing at the cement floor as if to expel the pain from his body.

"Luke, it's okay," Noah whispered. "It's gonna be okay."

"Hold him steady!" Howl said, kneeling next to them.

"Can you help him?" Noah asked.

"They've already bled him," Howl said. "He's in between our world and theirs."

"I don't under—"

"Look at me, Noah," Howl said.

Noah ripped his eyes from his husband and looked at Howl's face.

"You need to believe that he's going to make it. You need to not be afraid."

Tom stood, blinded and burning from the water in Howl's vile, and charged at them. He was stopped along the outside of the circle Howl had made, barred from getting in as though there were a protective shield around them. His face had changed from an ordinary man to something different, something with red eyes and sharp teeth.

"Don't look at them, look at me!" Howl yelled, grabbing Noah's chin and forcing him to look the other way. "You need to focus all of your emotions—all of you love, all of your compassion and trust and happiness into Luke. Can you do that for me?"

From the corner of his eye, Noah could see Patricia push herself up from the floor and crawl towards them. Her eyes were red, her teeth jagged and monstrous, too big for her face. She was stopped exactly where Tom was on the outside of the circle.

"Noah!"

"I can do it!" Noah yelled, looking down at Luke again.

"Give me the Bible," Howl instructed.

Noah handed the man the book from his back pocket. Howl placed it on Luke's stomach and Luke let out an agonizing cry.

"Shh!" Noah murmured. "It's okay . . ."

Howl dabbed a bit of water on his fingertips from the glass bottle and made a lower-case T on Luke's forehead. "_In nomine Patris, et Filii_," he whispered, "_et Spiritus Sancti_."

"No, stop!" Luke cried. It was the first time either of them had heard him speak since they arrived.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit." Howl made the sign of the cross on himself and dabbed more water on his fingers.

"F'uck you!" Luke spat. He tried to sit up and attacked Howl, but Noah locked arms with him and held him down.

All around them, Noah could see and hear dark figures moving around their protected circle of light, howling and screaming like demons from hell.

"Noah, stay with me!" Howl yelled. He made another T on Luke's chest, right along his breastbone. "You can't have him," Howl said to whatever creatures surrounded them. "He's not yours anymore—"

The floor shook beneath them like an earthquake. Noah gasped and held onto Luke tighter.

"_Caeli enarrant gloriam Dei_," Howl said. "The heavens declare the glory of God."

"I'll take you with me," Luke said, his voice raspy as he smiled deviously at Howl. "I'm already gone." The ground shook again and dust and debris floated from the rafters.

"Luke, please," Noah whispered.

"Release him!" Howl yelled. "He's not yours anymore!"

"I love you," Noah said, putting his hand over the gash on Luke's breast.

"Release him!"

"Come back to me—"

"_De profundis, redivivus_!"

"Stay with me, please."

"Out of the depths of misery, come back!"

Luke let out an agonizing wail. A rush of wind knocked Howl over. The ground stopped shaking and the dark creatures pulsed towards them, then vanished. Patricia and Tom disappeared with the demons, until nothing was left in the basement but the yellow light and the men who were huddled closely together.

Noah opened his eyes as he buried his face in Luke's hair. He looked up and saw Howl staring at the ceiling, his breath shallow as he repeated the name 'Maggie' over and over again. Noah took Luke's head in his hand and moved to his husband's side. Luke was still, silent, his eyes closed. The cut on his chest was gone, but he wasn't breathing.

"Luke?" Noah pressed an ear to his husband's chest but couldn't feel a heartbeat. "Luke!" He tilted Luke's head back and pinched his nose, breathing into his mouth as he performed CPR. Noah began compressions on Luke's chest, frantically trying to bring him back to life. "Howl, help me!"

He counted one compression, two compressions, all the way to thirty before giving Luke two more breaths. "Come on, baby," he said, applying more compressions. "Come on, come back to me."

Luke lay motionless, his chest covered in dried blood with a thin veneer of sweat on his temples. His face was sheet white, as if he were in a comfortable slumber instead of a state of comatose.

"Howl!" Noah pleaded.

Howl drew a deep breath, the vision of his wife gone from his eyes. He blinked at the yellow light above him and shakily sat up. The old man watched as Noah performed CPR, too stunned to do anything else.

"Come on!" Noah cried, pounding on Luke's chest. "Come on!" Noah let out a cry and fell on Luke's chest. "Wake up, please!" He laid his head over Luke's heart, tears streaming down his face. There was no heartbeat, no breath from his husband. Luke was a lifeless shell, his body still warm like a used shirt tossed onto the floor. "Please, God, please," Noah sobbed. "I love you, Luke."

Noah's tears touched Luke's chest as he cried. He wasn't ready to give him up yet. They still had their whole lives to live, a lifetime of being together, come hell or high water. It was too soon to end.

"Please, Luke. Come back to me."

Suddenly, Luke's chest rose and fell with a regular breath. Noah could hear the man's heartbeat. He raised his head from his husband's chest and Luke was staring up at their ceiling, blinking groggily as if coming out of a dream.

"Noah?" Luke muttered.

Noah let out a laugh and wiped his tears away. He took his husband's hand and stroked his face. "I'm here. I'm right here."

Howl sighed a breath of relief and put a hand to his forehead. He looked towards the ceiling at the yellow glow of the light bulb and said a silent thank you to God, to his wife, to whatever was out there looking after them.

"Did I fall asleep?" Luke asked.

Noah squeezed his eyes shut as more tears came, tears of happiness and relief. "Yeah," he said. "You fell asleep. But it's over now. You're gonna be fine."

"Good," Luke breathed. "I had such a wonderful dream. There was a woman with red hair . . . she told me to wake up. Her name was Maggie."

Noah looked at Howl and the old man smiled achingly. "You must have an angel looking after you," Howl said.

Luke blinked slowly and let out a long breath. "I missed you, Noah."

Noah sniffled and nodded. "I missed you, too." He leaned in and kissed his husband softly, stroking his hair. He touched his forehead to Luke's. "You're safe now."

**To be continued**


	9. Epilogue

The sun was high in the air and a cool breeze kissed the sweat on Noah's brow as he loaded the last box into the U-Haul truck. Luke stepped outside from the apartment building and jaunted down the steps sprightly. His face was rich in color, his eyes no longer weary with dark circles and sleepless nights. No longer did he wake up in the middle of the night or walk around the apartment in a sleepy stupor. He slept soundly in Noah's arms, his soft breath the last thing Noah felt on his skin before they both drifted off to dreamless nights.

"Is that the last one?" Luke asked, meeting Noah at the back of the truck.

"Last one," Noah said. "Did you leave the key on the table?"

Luke nodded. "It'll be good to go back home."

Noah took his husband's hand and squeezed it gently. "I love you," he said.

Luke smiled and went in for a hug. He pressed his face into Noah's shoulder and breathed in his scent. "I love you, too." When they parted, Luke studied Noah's face. "It's doesn't seem real, does it? It's all still so . . . foggy."

Noah kissed Luke's forehead reassuringly. "It'll get better. I promise."

Luke nodded, gave his husband another smile, then went around to the front of the truck. Noah saw Howl exit the building and watched the man approach him.

"So you're really leaving, huh?" Howl asked.

Noah nodded. "We're going back to Oakdale."

Howl smiled knowingly and looked towards the front of the truck where Luke was. "He doesn't remember anything?"

"No," Noah said. "He still thinks it was all a dream."

Howl nodded. "Good. That's good."

There was a moment of silence as the men stood together, neither of them knowingly how to thank the other. "So what're you going to do when we're gone?"

"I don't know," Howl said, putting his hands in his coat pockets. "I was thinking of going to seminary school."

"What, no more demon-hunting?"

"Who knows?" Howl said with a smile. He reached in the front pocket of his pants and pulled out the necklace Noah had given Luke. "Here. I found this downstairs."

"Keep it," Noah said, pushing it back towards Howl. "You may need it more than us one day."

Howl nodded and put the chain back in his pocket. He extended his hand. "Take care, Noah."

Noah smiled and shook his hand. "You too."

When the truck was all packed up for the road, Noah waved at Howl one last time from the driver's window and drove off down the road. Howl stood and watched them go, hands in his pockets, mind on his wife Maggie. He turned and saw a young couple looking up at the building with bright, eager smiles.

"Excuse me," the man said to Howl. "Do you live here?"

"I do," Howl said.

"It's a gorgeous building," the young woman said. "Are there any apartments for rent?"

Howl's smile faded. He looked at the young husband and wife as they clasped hands lovingly, oblivious to the dangers of the world, the darkness that lay beyond the light.

"I highly, _highly_ recommend that you look elsewhere," Howl said.

**END**


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